


Stay With Me

by OncefortheFun



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 84,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OncefortheFun/pseuds/OncefortheFun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn wakes up hung over besides a naked Santana with no knowledge of the night before. Until she remembers. And then she really remembers. As the events in her life progress towards the altar, she struggles to reconcile with the fact that she may be falling in love with her best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay With ME

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended as a three-shot based off of my three favorite Sam Smith songs.

_(I guess it’s true)_

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, ending what had to have been one of the greatest sleeps of her life. She stretched, taken aback by the softness of the bed, how good the sheets felt against her skin, the warmth that surrounded her. She gave a full bodied yawn, feeling how her body reacted to the gesture. Despite the pounding in her head, and the slight ache in other parts of her body, she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well. That is until she realized what had caused her to wake up: there was snoring coming from beside her. It wasn’t loud, or obnoxious, it was hardly even discernible over the natural sounds of the hotel room even to her alcohol addled brain, but it was the first clue Quinn had that there was a body in the bed with her.

                She groaned internally, because she had been in this position before and it hadn’t boded well for her. The last time she’d woken up with a post party hangover and a body in the bed with her, Beth had been the end result. Even though her daughter was perfection, and Quinn was somewhat older now, she was still as unprepared in this moment to bring a life into the world as she’d been when she was 16 and pregnant. She prayed that she’d been smart enough the night before to remember to use protection, and even if she had, she still planned on marching into the pharmacy and demanding Plan B as soon as she got back to New Haven just to be on the safe side. 

                She opened one eye, and then the other, surprised by the brightness of the sun as its rays landed on her face. She almost didn’t want to check who it was beside her (God, please don’t let it be Puck). She was so very tempted to just pull her clothes on and slip out of the room-even though it was her room and she was the one paying for it-just to avoid having to face what she had done the night before. (Inconveniently, she couldn’t remember anything at this moment). After all, isn’t that what one did with one-night stands? Wasn’t it supposed to be about the awkward morning after, the walk of shame as you left the room wearing the same clothes that you had entered it in? That uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your gut at having shared yourself with someone whom you don’t even know their last name and that you’d never see again?     

                But curiosity got the best of her. So Quinn slowly turned to her side, careful not to move too much because she didn’t want to wake her bed mate. When she rolled onto her side enough to see the body beside her, she got her second shock of the morning, because although the body was mostly covered up with the bed sheet, it was distinctly feminine. She felt a blush fall over her face. _Oh my god, I slept with a girl_. That…was not what she was expecting. Her first thought? What would her parents think? Her second was that she couldn’t believe that she’d actually done it. She tried to recall the events from the night before to figure out how such a thing had happened, but it made her head hurt to even think about anything past her waking up.  

                She couldn’t say that she was disgusted by the fact that she had apparently had her first casual foray into lesbianism, just completely taken aback by it. The last scenario Quinn had imagined falling prey to was the hooking up with some random girl, and at her former high school teacher’s wedding no less! She was such a walking cliché: Christian celibacy queen who gets knocked up, college fresh falling for her professor, repressed lemon plucked in college. 

                God, how much had she had to drink last night?  

                “Ugh, my head is killing me!”

                Quinn froze at the sound that came from her bedmate. T _hat voice. Quinn knew that voice! No, no, no! She did not go there!_

                But one sight of that dark brown, almost black looking mane, not to mention the familiar shoulders and back that she had seen naked countless times before in her adolescence, that skin that looked like it was permanently tanned compared to her paler skin…Quinn had to slightly lift up the comforter to confirm that yes, she was naked. And a small peak at that ass…that was definitely Santana’s, and it was just as bare as her own. _Oh God, what have I done?_

“Is there any aspirin? Whatever happened to bartenders cutting you off when you had too much to drink? What time is it, Q?”

                How could she be so calm about this? Why wasn’t she freaked out that she had just woken up beside Quinn and both of them were naked? Was Santana so used to waking up beside naked girls that this was just a normal occurrence for her sometimes friend? Another notch in her belt?

                “ _Santana_?” Quinn’s voice was hoarse. She saw Santana struggle to pull herself into a sitting position, but failing at that she just fell back on her elbows leaning slightly towards Quinn. Santana gave her an appraising look. “Santana,” she repeated. Quinn’s voice seemed like she was desperately reaching for a lifeline. “Tell me that we didn’t…?”

                Santana was not about to offer such reassurances. She smirked seemingly amused by both the actions of the night before, and Quinn’s reaction to it.  “Oh we definitely did! Gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

                Quinn’s face flushed of all color. “I was drunk,” Quinn defended. She was already on the defense for her actions, desperate to draw herself away from the situation, even though she couldn’t remember it. Had Santana somehow taken advantage of her? Slipped something into her drink, maybe? She wouldn’t do something like that, though, right?  

                Santana chuckled. “That seemed to be the point.” She started to say something, but she caught a look at the clock and the playful smile was wiped from her face. “Shit, is that the right time?”

                It was 7:35. In the morning. On a Sunday. 

                Quinn watched as Santana slid to the edge of the bed and fumbled around until she came up with the underwear that she’d discarded the night before. In a sort of detached way Quinn wondered how they had gotten so close to the bed when she distinctly remembered sliding them down Santana’s hips closer to the door. It occurred to her that Santana was actually leaving; leaving before she had a chance to figure out what was really going on. As much as Quinn had wanted to disappear just a few minutes prior, the sight of Santana getting dressed almost sent her into a panic.  

                “W-where are you going?”

                Santana gave a glance back at Quinn. Despite her panicked actions, her voice was quite calm. “Well, when I told mami I was going to be in town, it was kind of highly expected that I would spend the night at home, and I promised her that I would have breakfast with the family. So I’m going to get breakfast, and visit with my mom and dad, and get ready to do whatever lame thing we’re supposed to be doing with Glee later. I would invite you to eat with us, but obviously you and your mind have a lot of talking to do, so I’m just going to go alone.” 

                At the mention of the Glee kids, Quinn felt worry rise in her. What if someone saw Santana walking out of the room? “You can’t tell anyone about this,” Quinn gasped.

                Santana gave her head a shake, looking at Quinn with…what, pity? “No worries, Quinn. Like I said, I’m not about to show up at your house with a U-haul. It was fun,” she said, parroting Quinn’s own words back to her. Something must have shown on Quinn’s face because Santana was suddenly in it, her own face an inch from hers. Santana’s hand reached up to softly stroke her cheek. “It’s just sex, Q. You don’t have to over think it here. After we leave this room, we go back to sometimes liking each other and actively hating each other. It’s called a one-night stand. Welcome to college.”

                Santana went back to getting dressed. It took Quinn a moment to realize that she’d attired herself in a pair of Quinn’s leggings and her gray Yale sweatshirt. “Oh yeah, I’m going to take this.” She didn’t ask if it was okay, and she knew that Quinn wouldn’t say anything about her taking it. Santana paused at the doorway, and came back and straddled Quinn’s lap. Santana waited until she was staring up at her before she pressed her lips against Quinn’s in an impassioned kiss that ended before Quinn could start kissing her back.           

                Santana rolled off of her lap. “See ya, Q!”

                And then she was gone.

                Quinn was both sad and relieved at the sight of Santana walking through the door. The latter, the relief, she easily understood, but why was she sad? Because she _hadn’t_ stayed? Because she and the girl who she sometimes liked and mostly hated, but would sadly be considered her best friend, had just had sex, but she couldn’t remember how it had happened, and said girl had said it was a one-night stand?       

                It was an uncomfortable ride back to New Haven. While Quinn showered, she had a chance to examine her body, and as her hands moved over it, she’d get little snippets of Santana’s hands moving over her body, little whiffs of the smell of their combined scents. She pulled a hair off her and discovered it was Santana’s. There were dark circle marks on her breasts, and judging from the way the water bit into her skin, she had scratch marks on her back. The biggest reminder was the way that she moved, because every time she shifted, it felt like Santana’s fingers were still in her.  

                The train ride was uncomfortable because as the train moved closer to home, she remembered.  She remembered the phone call from Santana asking her to be her ‘date’. It was actually more of a demand because Santana rarely asked for anything, and didn’t allow herself to be vulnerable enough to downright come out and say that she didn’t want to be alone. Of course Quinn had said yes because she didn’t want to be alone, either.  Because the professor had made up some lame excuse for why he had to spend Valentine’s Day with his wife, even though they were supposed to be getting divorced, and he really thought that Quinn was stupid enough not to know that he was probably still very much happily married despite his habit of sleeping with his students.

                She remembered being annoyed with Santana because even though she was doing her this favor, she was still being obnoxious. At first anyway.  Her annoyance quickly dissipated seeing how sad Santana was beneath the makeup and the sneer, and she put aside her own feelings to attempt to make Santana feel better.

                She remembered he alcohol…there was a lot of it. Like a lot.

                Then there was that song. It was like the “ode to a one night stand”. _We’ve got tonight._ And it made sense. Somehow the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, and both she and Santana were single, and here together, and Santana was in her arms, and not making some snarky comment, and not insulting anyone, and not looking at anyone but her, it made sense. They had tonight. Who the hell needed tomorrow?     

                 The ride was uncomfortable because she remembered just how awkward having sex with Santana had been. She had always imagined that sex with Santana (not that she imagined what sex with Santana would be like) would have been this mind numbing, earth shattering experience. The general consensus was that Santana was good at sex, a pro at it. Other than Finn, she’d never heard anyone say something negative about it. Santana was hot, and she could dance, which meant she knew how to move her body (not because she was hot, that was just a bonus), which should have translated into great sex between them, right? But it hadn’t been great, it had been clumsy, and fumbling, and awkward. Because first time sex between two friends who knew each other’s bodies, but had been drinking heavily, and one was inexperienced with sex, and neither knew how far they’d actually take things, didn’t make for awesome sex. At one point Quinn had stumbled, and Santana had been unable to help her up, and they had landed hard on the floor, and it hadn’t been sexy, or even funny, it had hurt.

                The kissing had been…gooey. All tongue and teeth and little lip, and impersonal. Santana had missed her lips a couple of times and had been practically gnawing on the side of her mouth at one point. Sure it had only been for a couple of seconds, but seriously not sexy. Quinn hadn’t been much better at it. She’d never once enjoyed kissing anyone, from Puck to the Professor; she was  beginning to think that it was her. The only kiss that had been perfect was…actually the good-bye kiss from Santana. The completely sober, looking into her eyes, good-bye kiss from Santana.     

                And the act? Quinn had wanted to be on top, because even though she didn’t know what she was doing, she couldn’t imagine letting Santana have control, but she hadn’t known what to do when she was there. So Santana worked with what she had, but Quinn had never really let go of control, and it was simply miraculous that either one of them had managed an orgasm, but they had somehow. A couple, in fact.

                Quinn climaxed first, but when it came time for reciprocation Quinn had been squeamish and downright gun shy despite that she had initiated the interaction in the first place. Quinn hadn’t known what to do, and showed every sign of withdrawing. She was so unsure of herself, and so hesitant, that Santana had finally just grabbed Quinn’s hand and guided it in between her legs, and Quinn had been surprised, nearly floored, by what awaited her there.

                  _It was wet._

_Well duh, genius, of course it was wet._ But Quinn wasn’t expecting it to feel like _that_. Like…Quinn masturbated, on average, three times a month, and she mostly just fiddled around down there until she happened across an orgasm…or she felt like she’d gotten to a point where she could stop and still be satisfied, even if an orgasm hadn’t necessarily been achieved. She understood that sex was supposed to be pleasurable, but had never really seen it as a necessity. She hadn’t spent copious amounts of time… _fine tuning_ her instrument. She never stopped to really think how it felt in-between her folds. So she’d been surprised when her hand was thrust into that dark, heated center, and her hand was met with moisture. Quinn was so surprised she almost pulled her hand back. Santana was _wet_. She was aroused. Despite her fumbling, Quinn had caused that reaction between her legs.

                Quinn’s finger accidentally brushed up against her clit, causing her to moan out, and Quinn decided that she liked that. The sound alone was enough to get her wet again, to feel things heating up again below her waist. When she was finally able to make Santana climax (it had taken some considerable time, and it had been a joint effort on both of their parts…really Santana deserved most of the credit), she had fallen back with a sense of satisfaction, despite how much effort and fumbling it had taken to get her to that state. There was nothing about the experience that required an encore, yet when a second round was offered after Quinn had essentially denied that it had been anything, she hadn’t hesitated to initiate things again.     

                The ride was uncomfortable because the thing that Quinn couldn’t deny was how much she had _wanted_ Santana. From the moment that she saw her in the red dress with the faux fur stole, to the second that she was spread out in front of her, core glistening and Quinn contemplating going down on her, she had _wanted_ Santana.  It had been nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes off of her so she made things simple with herself: she didn’t. When Santana caught Quinn checking her out, Quinn didn’t shy away from the gaze. When Santana looked so damn good that Quinn would have liked to drink her, and not the alcohol in front of her, she told her. When the music changed from fast to slow, and she didn’t want to stop dancing with Santana, she didn’t. She pulled her in closer, wrapped her arms around her neck, and smiled when Santana’s hands went around her waist. Every minute, every second of the night, she had wanted. And when she passed out spent beside her, she had never felt so fulfilled in all of her life.

                She didn’t know what to do with that, she didn’t understand it because she had never felt that way about Santana before. They had both done their share of admiring each other’s bodies before; that was nothing new. But if Quinn had stared at Santana’s naked or near naked breasts before, it was only to try to see if she could see the surgical scars. Or if she was looking at her posterior, it was to compare it with her own. As far as she knew, she had never had a desire for Santana. This wasn’t an unrequited love or something she had been building up her whole life; she had never once contemplated Santana on her back with Quinn eyeing her in a sexual manner. It wasn’t until her sorority sister kissed her at a frat party that Quinn even entertained the idea that she was anything other than strictly straight, which she found slightly ironic because she’d kissed both Santana and Brittany before, and had felt _nothing._ And yet on Valentine’s Day she had found herself wanting, and as she took the train back to her life in New Haven, she was wanting still, because the experience hadn’t been at all what it should have been, and she felt cheated somehow. 

 

                To no one’s surprise, they didn’t talk. Quinn could be a coward, or rather Quinn had been raised with the adage that unpleasant things shouldn’t be talked about, so Quinn and Santana didn’t talk. It wasn’t hard. They didn’t live in the same state. Quinn was too busy for social media, and anyway she always thought it was kind of vain. No one needed a status update on where she was every second of the day; they didn’t need pictures of her food, or know who she was partying with.  She had a Facebook account she rarely checked, didn’t have twitter because the concept itself just seems so 1984, and she _had_ an Instagram account that she updated once a month, if that, but she was never in any of the pictures she posted. She hated that everyone carried a camera around with them all the time, and spent more time recording their moments than actually enjoying them. Not to mention, she hadn’t yet figured out how her generation had been raised on technology, but still hadn’t quite grasped the concept that everything that you put out on the internet was available to anyone and never went away. ( _Santana’s sex tape, anyone?)_ Including when you were applying for jobs. 

                So she didn’t have to worry about ‘running’ into Santana there, and she was never the best at keeping up via call or text so time passed without a word between them. It was Rachel that was harder to ignore, because she couldn’t avoid her. Quinn simply did not understand Rachel’s obsession with wanting to still be friends with the ‘popular girls’ who tortured her, after high school was over, but she seemed to be determined to do just that. And although Rachel complained about Santana daily, Quinn could tell that she was actually happy, thrilled even, that Santana was living in the loft with her. She also was insistent on talking to Quinn daily, even though the conversations were short…shorter now then they had been in the past if Quinn knew Santana was lurking somewhere in the background. There were no walls in the loft, and she didn’t want Santana to know that she kept in contact with Rachel when she was steadily avoiding her.    

                Because she _was_ avoiding Santana, and she was certain that Santana knew it, too.

                It wasn’t that she was having an existential crisis over the fact that she had pursued, seduced, and slept with a woman, that had her pulling a disappearing act. No that thought was fleeting and didn’t trouble Quinn any longer than it took to think it. If she was being honest, it would have happened at some point just to get it out of her system. She wasn’t particularly fussed that it had been with Santana, either. Santana was simply the logical choice. Gay best friend, questioning Quinn, who else would her first girl on girl experience have been with? Santana might have given her hell about it, and she might have to deal with being called ‘fab gay’ in private, but she knew that she could trust Santana. So that wasn’t the reason she was keeping space between them. Quinn wasn’t fussed about what she… _they_ did.

                 It was that smirk that Quinn feared.

                Every time she thought of Santana, thought about talking to her, seeing her again, all she could see was that infuriating smirk. That smirk that said, “I fucked Quinn Fabray, and she was as bad in the sheets as I always thought.” The latter part being her biggest concern. Quinn had been _bad_. It wasn’t Santana that had been the problem, it’d been her, and Quinn wasn’t bad at anything, except sometimes maybe life.

                Quinn was determined to fix things, because even though it was only supposed to be a one-time, one-night experience, she couldn’t leave things the way they were. If Santana got to crow about ‘getting Quinn Fabray’, she at least needed something to crow about. So Quinn spent a considerable amount of time in between classes when her roommate was gone, watching lesbian porn, and masturbating, even reviewing the things that Santana had done to her body, and imitating them, so that Quinn understood what she had done wrong, and how to go about fixing it.  

                When Quinn showed up at the loft, unannounced, shortly after Rachel’s pregnancy scare, Santana seemed less than surprised to see Quinn standing there in the flesh even though they hadn’t spoken a word since the wedding, she merely gave her a look that said ‘well’?          

_(I’m no good at a one night stand)_

                “Where’s Rachel?” It was the first thing she could think to say, though hello would have sufficed just as nicely.

                Santana leaned against the door frame. “Class. So is Kurt. It’s just me.”

                And then, there was that smirk, because of course they were in class. It was just past noon on Thursday. Where else would they be? It was obvious, and Santana wasn’t going to let her think for a second that she didn’t know that Quinn was missing classes to be here. Santana made fun of Rachel for always having to be organized, but Santana knew both Kurt and Rachel’s schedules, and Quinn’s too.

                Their eyes locked and held. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come for either of them.” Santana seemed to think about what she just said, and smiled at the unintentional double entendre.

                _God, what am I doing?_ Quinn wondered as her eyes rolled in direct response to what Santana had said. Placing a firm hand on the center of Santana’s chest, Quinn pushed her back into the loft.

                “Shut up,” she hissed. The ‘p’ had barely been pronounced before their lips were on each other.

                Quinn felt her back hit the wood of the wall beside the door, and she let Santana press into her, miraculously managing to close the sliding metal door of the loft, even as she explored Quinn’s mouth. Her knee pressed firmly into Quinn’s center. Quinn let out a moan without meaning to, and then when she pressed more firmly, rolling her hips, she moaned again without caring.

                 This time it was better. Much better. She did what she should have done the first time around: she let Santana lead. Santana kissed her until both of them were breathless, and panting, looking at each other with Santana still pressing into her, moving her hips ever so slowly.

                Santana lowered her mouth back down on top of Quinn’s, moving more slowly this time. She was kissing her, as if to show off her skill, and Quinn copied her, moving her lips in tandem with Santana’s, and this time the kiss was everything it hadn’t been at first.

                Santana raised her hand to finger the hairs at the back of Quinn’s scalp, causing little shivers to go through her body at the contact.

                “You like that?” Santana questioned.

                Quinn nodded appreciatively. Curiously, Santana drew her thumb and forefinger along the hair line, pleased to see the way Quinn reacted to it. Testing, she tugged on the short hairs back there, causing the other woman to react positively, whimpering into Santana’s kiss. Santana tugged a little harder at the same time that she thrust her tongue into Quinn’s mouth. Her other hand gently caressed the soft skin just above the waistband, before she lightly scratched. Quinn could feel knees start to buckle. “Good?” Santana tested.

                “ _So_ good.”

                Still kissing her, Santana toyed with the button of her pants. Quinn had seriously dressed down for this, wearing only a sweater and a pair of jeans. Her infinity scarf was quickly discarded, as was her sweater and bra. Lips briefly met with her nipples, licking lightly over them while Quinn kicked off her boots. The pants were next, and these were taking down a little more reverently, Santana kneading her ass before they were slipped off. When she had been divested of both her jeans and underwear, Santana lifted her up by her butt, and pushed her into the wall to aid in balance.

                “What do you want right now?” Santana questioned.

                Of course Santana would make her say it. Quinn leaned in as well as she could, pressing her lips to Santana’s ear. She licked the cartilage before breathing hotly, “I want you to take me. Right now.”

                Those words were all she needed as Santana slipped two fingers in side of her with no warning. Quinn wasn’t disappointed, though. She gasped, whimpering when Santana started to thrust up as she lowered her mouth back down over her breasts. Quinn rode Santana’s fingers, matching her thrusts. As they moved she was vaguely aware of the discomfort of her back hitting the metal of the door, but she simply didn’t care. 

                When Quinn was no longer shivering, Santana gently let Quinn back to the ground. She leaned in to kiss her again, this time a far gentler kiss. She pulled back as if that was it, but Quinn was far from done, and it was time to show Santana exactly what she had learned while they hadn’t been talking. She took over control, and this time it was much, much better than their first time. Santana melted in her hands, each moan, each pant, each rotation of her hips spurring Quinn on. She was just as surprised as she’d been the first time to see how wet Santana was between her legs. Quinn ran a finger through the moisture, eliciting a delicious sounding whimper from the girl that was beneath her.

                Quinn couldn’t help but watch the emotions that danced across Santana’s face as she worked her up. Her eyes were closed tightly in concentration, pure bliss lining her features. Quinn had a momentary moment of uncertainty. Was Santana actually here with her or was she just a substitute for the person that Santana really wanted to be with? It shouldn’t have mattered; this was just a re-do after all, technically still her one night stand. It shouldn’t matter who Santana was with, as long as she made her come, but she had to know.

                “Say my name.” Quinn ordered. If her face wasn’t already red from their excursion, she would have blushed after the words had left her mouth, because she certainly couldn’t have been the one who said that. But she needed to know. She needed to know that Santana was here, with her, and not wrapped in her mind around another blonde that was taller, and more flexible, and better at knowing Santana’s body.

                “Quinn,” Santana panted, needing no further prodding, understanding what Quinn needed and giving it to her readily. “Quinn...you feel so good.” 

                “Look at me.”

                Santana’s eyes instantly opened, her face still wrinkled in concentration, but with no hesitation Santana’s eyes met Quinn’s. She smiled at her, and it hit Quinn that she was fucking her friend. She was fucking Santana. _Santana, Santana, Santana_ , she panted in her head as her hips moved against the girl beneath her. She didn’t realize that she was actually saying the words aloud, and she didn’t care.  

                “I’m almost there, Q!”

                Quinn increased her pace, thrusting harder. She laid kisses on her chest, just above her heaving breasts. In a burst of inspiration she bit down on her nipple, flicked her clit, and gave a rotation of her hips, and it was just what was needed for Santana to come crashing down, “Quinn,” on her lips as she did so.   

                Apparently Santana’s orgasm was particularly fierce because even after Quinn’s fingers stilled, aftershocks took a hold of Santana, and Quinn watched in fascination.

                “Wow,” she whispered, seeing Santana shiver.

                “You’re telling me,” Santana gasped, as another particularly strong wave grabbed her again, and Santana’s hand gripped her forearm. Quinn couldn’t help but feel smug. _I did that_. _Me_.

                She wasn’t given the chance to properly luxuriate in the feeling, however, because she found herself on her back, her legs pushed open, and a Santana that was just as anxious to give the same back to Quinn. Santana worked her over until Quinn finally couldn’t take it anymore, and she pulled away from Santana’s questing fingers. Santana gave a laugh. She placed a kiss on Quinn’s forehead, then another one on her lips, before settling down beside her.

                “Damn, Fabray.” Quinn gave a self satisfied smile.     

                They lay, side by side, shoulders touching. Quinn wanted to touch her some more, to let her hands quest over Santana’s body, to draw her into her arms, or to find herself in Santana’s, she wanted so many things right now, but she settled for this, for their shoulders touching, for their breaths to almost be in sync with each other, for the racing thoughts that she could practically hear from Santana, missing only the words to give them confirmation that they were in concert with her own. Quinn was surprised by the sudden feel of Santana’s lips, but then that quickly they were gone again. Santana gave another laugh.

                “What’s funny?” Quinn hesitantly asked.

                “I knew you’d be back,” she said cockily. She rolled, sitting up. “What’d you do, go home and practice?”

                 “What makes you think that I’d come back?”

                She was expecting a commentary about Santana’s hotness. What she got instead was a kiss on the forehead. “You hate to be bad at anything,” Santana said, laughing again. There was a sharp tap on her arm. “Now get your ass up! I know you want a shower before Rach and Kurt get back, and after _that_ , I’m going to need some ice cream.”

                Quinn shook her head, but she pulled herself up. Their eyes met, as if one of them had called the other. Santana’s expression was filled with nothing but understanding. She knew that this was the end of their moment, just as strongly as Quinn knew it to be true.  

                “But what a way to go,” Santana said, clearly, as if Quinn had spoken the words out loud. And then she winked.

                Quinn felt certain she could withstand that smirk now.

_(But I still need love ‘cuz I’m just a woman)._

                That should have been it. But life never quite went the way you planned.

                Santana showed up at her door, at 3:00 in the morning, wearing nothing but what she must have worn to work at the bar. In the outside world, spring was breaking, and the last bit of the bitterness of winter was receding, but it was still cold, much too cold for the thin shirt and jeans that Santana had on. One look at Santana’s red eyes, the way she dragged in ragged breaths, the way her hair looked as if she had spent the whole train ride dragging her fingers through it, told Quinn everything she needed to know. She didn’t want to ask why Santana was there because once the words were spoken, and an answer given, it couldn’t be taken back. Then the truth that Santana knew would be something she knew, too, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that. Correction, she knew she wasn’t ready.

                “Santana?”

                Santana looked up, as if surprised that she was there. Surprised to see Quinn, surprised to be in her Yale dorm room. It made Quinn wonder just how deeply she had sunk into her own head. Quinn was reminded just then that the only thing that was big about Santana was her ego, and her presence, because she was actually pretty tiny, small-waisted, slender, breakable. There was something unmistakably lonely in her gaze, and Quinn was certain that she looked back with that same look. All that Quinn could see when they looked at each other were walls. So she began to strip them down. She stripped off Santana’s shirt, then her bra. Quinn wasn’t sure if she would, but obediently Santana stood up and Quinn pulled off her jeans and underwear, and Quinn did the same. Naked, she drew her into her arms, sharing her warmth with the other girl until her body warmed up beneath the covers of her bed.

                They both needed this. Quinn needed this release, this connection to her friend before Santana said words that would change the world that the two of them existed in, and Santana needed someone, she needed to feel someone, she needed to lessen this burden that she was carrying with her. So they gave each other what they had, they trembled within each other’s arms, they pressed lips into flesh, as well as tongues and fingers, and they had sex in a way that may have been less fucking and more loving and, in a way that somehow, also, felt like a good-bye.

                The last time they met was supposed to be it for them. Quinn really had no intention of ever going here with her friend again, but life throws you curve balls, disrupts the things that you have planned for it, and people you think that you can live without, suddenly get pushed up against you, and the people that you didn’t think you cared that much about, you find that they are actually precious to you…the second it’s too late.

                Quinn wasn’t surprised in the least when Santana burst into tears right after she climaxed. Quinn drew her to her chest, and ran her fingers through her hair, and held her as she cried the type of cry that it hurt the soul to hear. It was the kind of cry that needed more than just arms to hold; it was the kind of cry that was so intense that it needed company to temper it otherwise it would consume the bearer, pull them down into a place that was so deep and impenetrable that no one could rescue them from it. That pulled others into it because it was an event that was so devastating one person couldn’t share it by herself. So Quinn sucked up her own fears, putting Santana above herself. Once again she called her name, and was met with those eyes. It took every ounce of Quinn’s courage to ask: “Who?”

                Finn.

                If it was possible to be simultaneously relieved and aggrieved, that’s how Quinn felt. Because seconds before the answer came, in her head she had charted out a list, pushing those she loved the most, the highest, and those that she didn’t, further down. He wasn’t up at the top, he wasn’t one that she couldn’t recover from, but he wasn’t far enough down on the list to not matter. To not start the tears from running and for her to realize that one of those on her list had just been unceremoniously scratched off.

                With anyone else, Quinn wouldn’t have caught on so quickly, but because it was Santana, and they knew each other in a way that no one else did, or could, she understood right away why Santana had taken this so hard. Before it had been Brittany, Quinn, and Santana, it had been Santana, Puck, and Finn. They had been closer than most people knew, but that’s not where Santana’s pain lie. Quinn was sure that Finn occupied the same spot on Santana’s list that he did on hers, but that did matter because all of the people who ranked higher than him on her list, had him ranked even higher on theirs. It wasn’t Santana’s pain that was manifesting right now as much as it was the anticipation of the pain of someone she loved. Someones she loved.

                “They don’t know?”

                Santana’s tired shoulders shook softly, dislodging a few tears. “Puck called me a few hours ago in the middle of my shift. He was with him, and he knew, and he doesn’t want anyone else to know that he was there, and he says he can’t be the one to tell.”

                “What about Kurt?”

                “He doesn’t know yet. No one knows yet. Not Burt, not Carol. Just Puck…and me.”

                Quinn’s anger at Puck’s cowardice flamed up as fresh tears fell down Santana’s face, and even though they weren’t these types of people, Quinn reluctantly pulled Santana more securely in her arms, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Sshh,” she said, trying to keep the other woman calm. “We’ll get through this.”

                But Quinn wasn’t with her when she returned to New York that same morning and she told Rachel and Kurt the news. And Quinn didn’t make it back to Lima when they had the memorial service because she couldn’t. Mid-terms provided a very convenient excuse for why she couldn’t go home, but honestly, she just couldn’t face things. She couldn’t face Lima, she couldn’t face the sadness, she couldn’t face Glee, or Santana, or even worse, Rachel. She just couldn’t. Quinn had never been good with death or grief, or with her expressing her feelings about it, and she couldn’t shake the guilt. Guilt about Beth, guilt about the cheating, and the guilt that somehow it was her fault that Rachel wouldn’t get her happy ending.

                Maybe it was just time that she cut ties with everything and everyone from her past, start anew, get it right this time. She had been wanting to do so for a long time but hadn’t had the courage to do it. As sad as it was, maybe Finn’s death gave her the perfect excuse to finally say good-bye.

_(These nights never seem to go to plan)_

                Quinn talked almost incessantly to her companion, sounding almost as if she had laid ownership to a place that she had never really liked. She couldn’t believe it, but she found herself in Lima, once again, for the first time since the wedding. Winter had given into spring, and summer was knocking on the door, warming the world over and Quinn was back on the familiar streets that had managed to age her, but had never managed to make her feel at home. Yet, she talked as if she had more than a passing disdain for this place. She pointed out landmarks in the town that marked really nonessential moments in her life. “Here’s where Frannie and I won the teens doubles tournament. There’s where the family used to go to Thursday night dinner. There’s where the chastity ball was held. Here’s our family’s church.” She recognized that her companion was only halfway paying attention to her, but she continued on as if maybe her words could make her care about this place, and him care about her. “Oh, and that’s the “famous” Breadstix”, she said. “For some unknown reason, Santana _loves_ the breadsticks there.”

                “Santana,” Biff repeated, because that name had come up in past conversations enough to spark his interest. Quinn talked about the woman often but in the past tense. Biff was curious about her, this friend that Quinn often talked about, but never talked to. To him, Quinn was pretty and smart enough to entertain the notion of passing time with, but she was such an enigma. She was like a magician: you only saw what she wanted you to see. He felt that there was something there with Santana, something he wanted to explore. Not to mention the girl was hot as fuck, and he wouldn’t mind seeing her in the flesh, either. Especially if she’d be down with a threesome.

                “Yes,” Quinn answered. “It was like her favorite place.”   

                Left out from the narrative were the things that were the biggest markers in her life: _here’s the intersection where the guy ran that stop sign while I was checking my phone and ended up t-boning me, here’s the sports center where I did my physical therapy, here’s the hospital where my first child was born and doctors told me I’d never walk again, here’s the alcove I contemplated living in when my dad kicked me out, here’s the corner store where me and the Skanks used to steal our cigarettes from, here’s the tattoo parlor where I got my tattoo of Ryan Seacrest, here’s the cemetery where the guy who thought he was the father of my child is buried._

                “It’s quaint here, sweetheart,” Biff said distantly, his eyes once again glued to the screen of his cell phone that he had barely looked up from. They were in his car, but Quinn was driving because he told her that he had to miss work (at his dad’s company) to come back for this, and he still had business he had to take care of.

                Biff was everything Quinn could want in a boyfriend. He was handsome, not too tall like Finn, healthy, slender and toned but not athletic, smart. He had a mind like a whip, which would come in handy when he took over his father’s company, and a shrewdness that would take him far in the business world. He was from good stock, a Pennsylvanian blue blood, old money. He was everything every past boyfriend wasn’t.

                Quinn knew that she didn’t fit what the mold of what a McIntosh woman was, or what he was ideally looking for in a wife, so she wasn’t very open about her past. She embellished the church, the country club, the junior league, the celibacy club, and her father’s political connections, and skated over the baby, the pregnancy, Puck, Finn, the Skanks, well pretty much everything that had characterized Quinn’s schizophrenic high school career. Telling him that she had been a cheerleader had been kind of pushing it, though the fact that she’d been the captain made up for it.

                The car stopped and inwardly Quinn had to steel herself because here was the start of her test. She wanted to hold on to Biff, but Biff wanted ‘full disclosure’. He had to vet her before he could fully let her into his world despite he was already claiming to love her.

                “Oh, will you look at you two!” Judy cooed loudly as they were exiting the car, Biff telling Quinn to stay put so he could open the door for her. Once they had both emerged from the car Biff regarded Judy with a smile, pleased, as Quinn knew that he would be, because Judy still looked good (despite the fact that she had more alcohol than blood in her body). She could tell that he was happy about his prospects for the future. “Well introduce us, Quinnie,” her mother directed.

                “Mother, this is Biff, Biff my mother Judy Fabray.”

                “Enchante mademoiselle.” Biff said with a bow. “Mother did you say? Certainly a woman of your beauty is _much_ too young to be Quinn’s _mother._ Older sister maybe.”

                Judy simpered, falling into a girlish giggle, and Quinn rolled her eyes, but squeezed Biff’s hand, letting him know that she appreciated the effort that he was making. It meant something, that he was willing to make the effort, right?    

 

                He didn’t make the week. Quinn should have known that he wouldn’t. It was Lima. It wouldn’t exist if it didn’t take everything she wanted and strived for away from her. It was like an impenetrable bog that was designed to grab on to its residents and drag them down and not let them go. The last thing that she wanted to do was be here. Be back. She thought that Finn’s death had somehow set her free from this place, but how could she ever be free of it when she’d foolishly allowed herself to set down roots? To allow these people to consider themselves friends? She already missed the memorial, she couldn’t miss this, too. So she was here. She was back.

                Santana was the problem. Santana was always the problem. Santana was like a human form of Lima. Santana was the one that would never let you forget anything. Santana would be a set of arms if you needed them, but she would just as easily be the force that would cut you down. Whenever you got wind beneath your sails, she was ready to deflate it. Just when Quinn was getting some peace, settling down with someone who she could start a life with, she was there to remind her that no matter how much she strived towards the Biffs of the world, she was still a Lima loser, and when it came to her, Santana was so toxic. How apropos that _Toxic_ became their song selection, too.  

                “What are you playing at Santana?” Quinn demanded. 

                Santana was stretched out on the bed, filing her nails unconcerned, despite the irritation in her friend’s voice. “Hey, it wasn’t even my idea, it was Britts. She wanted us to do a song together, and I just agreed.”

                “Because you always do whatever Brittany wants, right?” Quinn spat out. She wasn’t sure where her anger came from, and even more how to reel it in.

                Santana rolled into a sitting position. “What is your problem, Fabray?”

                “Did you tell her?”

                “That we hooked up?” Santana tossed the file aside. “No.”

                That surprised Quinn. “Why not?”

                “Should I have? It kind of seemed to me that you wanted that to be just between me and you. Besides it was a one…no three time thing, and I’m with Dani now anyway.”

                Quinn snorted without meaning too. “Dani.” She wasn’t sure where that reaction came from, so she decided not to think about it. She wasn’t sure where her visceral reaction came from. Part of her was happy to be back with Brittany and Santana, the Unholy Trinity united together once again. But the other part of her hated hearing how Santana talked about her girlfriend, or the way Brittany looked at her so longingly, or the dance routine that Brittany made up where she got to hold on to Santana, and Quinn was just on the outside looking in. Quinn felt like she kept seeing _something_ in Santana’s eyes when they would lock eyes every now and then, but when it was all said and done, Santana went home with Brittany, while she went home alone, because isn’t that the way it would always go?

                But how was it that Santana’s truth led her to get rid of Biff, while Quinn’s truth led Santana back to Brittany?

_(I don’t want you to leave)_

                Lesbos. The word, the idea, filled Quinn with bile, made her feel like throwing up, or throwing something. But she wasn’t going to let Santana get away with it, not this time anyway. Santana couldn’t tell her she was throwing her life away with these guys, when she kept throwing her life away with this girl. “She wants you to travel halfway across the world on a whim? _How fitting. How_ Brittany. _”_ Quinn leered.

                “What does that mean?”

                “Why is that every time you two are around each other you drop everything for her, and she leaves you wanting more? What about New York, Santana? What about this life that you’re building there, what about your dancing, and your job, your dreams, your life?”

                _What about me?_ Quinn had never had to do without her best friend. Even when they didn’t talk, she was still _there._ Shecouldn’t visit her in Lesbos. And it wasn’t just Lesbos. If they came back, and that was a big if, they wouldn’t be back. There would be another destination, another place, another chance to turn Santana into a supporting character in her own life. Quinn didn’t love her, (well she loved her, but she wasn’t in love with her) but if she were actually _in_ love with Santana, she would only attempt to bring out the best in her, not ask her to be her sails without offering her a little taste of the sun.  

                Instead of snapping back at her, Santana got that vulnerable look on her face which was even worse. “Is it too much to want to be wanted?” Santana demanded.

                I _want you_.

                “You do this all the time!” Quinn was suddenly yelling. She wasn’t entirely sure why, or what she expected to accomplish by it, but nothing else would work. “What are you so afraid of that you are constantly running away?”

                Santana slammed her suitcase shut. “Why do you even care what I do, Quinn? You hide away in that little dorm at Yale and only condescend to come back down to our level when you’re forced to. Is this because I pointed out the truth of yet another boyfriend? I’m sorry, date better guys!  I don’t know what you want here! If you’ve got something to say, say it,” Santana demanded. Quinn’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Santana shook her head. “That’s what I thought,” she said with…disgust?  “I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

                The words entered her head for a fleeting moment, _I don’t want you to go,_ but they remained in her head, unspoken where they would forever remain as nothing more than an idea that was not strong enough to find its way to light.     

 ( _Will you hold my hand)_

                Quinn could feel herself settling into a lull. The gentle motion of the train always had that affect on her. The first few times she had made her way from New Haven to New York, she’d sat in her seat, staring out the window as raptly as a child might, eagerly watching the sights that passed by as she moved from Connecticut to New York, and the world went from soft lines and tradition, to hard edges, large dreams, and tall buildings. She’d made the trip enough times by now that it didn’t hold any appeal to her still, and as her school schedule kept her incredibly busy, it was easily becoming one of the few times that she gave herself over to leisurely reading.

                 Today it was _Flowers for Algernon_. She placed her head phones in her ear to dull the sounds of the people around her, and opened the book to the last page that she’d read. It always took her a moment or two to get back into a story after not reading it for awhile. She’d read this book before, but it was one of those books that no matter how many times you read it, it still surprised you every time you picked it up.

                Vaguely she was aware of a body sitting down in the seat beside her, and it was automatic for her to shift, to give the new arrival a little extra space as she inched a little closer to the window without pulling her face up to see who was now sharing her space.    

                “You’re not going to enjoy the ending.”

                The words didn’t penetrate her at first, but then she got that feeling that someone had said something to her, and when she looked up there was a very handsome man, of about 22 if Quinn had to guess, gazing over at her expectantly. She realized he was the one who had spoken. She took off one of her head phones. “Excuse me?”

                “The ending,” the guy said again. “You’re not going to like it.”

                Quinn looked down at her book before looking back at him. “Oh, and why is that?” She could never figure out what compelled someone to interrupt her when she was reading, and she was waiting for him to tell her the ending so she could chew him out. She had read this book a couple of times, which is the only reason that she even responded to him.

                “Because at the end, when the two insanely attractive people reach the train station, they say good-bye.”

                It took a second for Quinn to realize that the guy wasn’t talking to her about the book. She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

                The guy gave a sad grimace, nodding solemnly.  “It’s a tragedy, really.”

                Quinn surprisingly found herself looking him over. He had light red hair that, like his beard and mustache, was cut short and very neatly trimmed. Peaking out beneath a very manly set of brown-red eye lashes were cool blue eyes. His face was angular, thin, attractive. He seemed like the kind of guy who took himself seriously, and took great pride in doing so, but the row of freckles that were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, and the dimples he flashed her, made him look surprisingly approachable. He was dressed simply in a purple polo, and dark khaki’s, and Quinn couldn’t help thinking-even despite the skater hemp bracelet on his wrist-how parentally acceptable he was.

                Since her split with Puck, which had lasted surprisingly longer than Quinn expected, she had only entertained dates, not seriously dated anyone. She had even spent a night with a woman, but that had not been anything special, and then with a different one. Maybe it was time for her to reconsider her reemergence onto the market.       

                “What are you listening to?”

                It took Quinn a second to remember that she had headphones in her ear, but she shook her head. “Nothing.”

                He gave her a perplexed look, so she tugged on the cord, showing that the headphones hadn’t been plugged into anything. “I use them to block out sound,” she explained.

                 “And to dissuade people around you from sitting beside you and trying to start up a conversation?”

                “That, too.”

                “Should I go and let you get back to reading?”

                “I haven’t dismissed you, yet, so it’s fair to reason that I’ve enjoyed your company so far.” 

                  He held his hand out towards Quinn. “I’m Kelly.”

                “Quinn.” 

                “Well aren’t we a pair?” he laughed. “Apparently both our parents were on the wrong side of the aisle when they visited the naming department.”

                Quinn gave a smile that, while small, was actually genuine. “My first name is Lucille, but I go by Quinn. My grandpa was named Quinton.”

                “My name is really Kellen, but I have younger siblings...so. Do you have a last name Quinn who is really Lucille?”

                “If I tell you it, will you give your word that you won’t Facebook stalk me?”

                “I will try, but I make no promises.”

                “That does not instill my trust in you.”

                “It should because I am being upfront, and not lying. You should be more worried if I didn’t.”

                “Okay… but if I do tell you it’s quid pro quo. If there’s going to be stalking there has to be an equal opportunity for it.”

                “Okay,” he said, smiling brightly.

                “Fabray.”

                “Lucille Quinn Fabray?”

                Quinn nodded, and gave an expectant look. “It’s Richardson. Kellen Davis Richardson. Can I share a secret with you Quinn, who is really Lucille, Fabray?” Quinn inclined her head, giving him permission. “I’ve been working up the nerve to come and talk to you for about three months now.”

                “So you _are_ a stalker!”

                “It is not stalking if we both travel in the same direction at the same time.”

                “Why have you been trying to talk to me?”

                “Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a very long time, and since we always seem to be traveling together, I thought I should introduce myself. Maybe then I could have a traveling buddy.”

                “Do you make this trip often?”

                “Every weekend.”

                “Visiting your girlfriend?” She didn’t know why she said that, but at the abrupt words Kelly smiled.

                “Working. Pop’s a lawyer, I’m a law student; I help out at his firm on the weekends. I am currently unattached. Are you a New York girl?”

                “No. I’m from Lima. It’s in Ohio.”

                “What’s in New York for you?”

                “Santana,” she blurted, smiling, then quickly corrected herself because it dawned on her exactly how she had sounded when she said that. “She’s a friend from high school.” _Just a friend_ , Quinn said in her head. “I haven’t seen her in over a year.” Ever since she and Brittany got back together. “I’ve really missed her.”   

                “Lucky girl to get your attention all weekend.”

                Quinn blushed at his overt flirting. “Not that lucky,” Quinn retorted. “She still has to share me with our other friends. I came to see them, too.” It was such a lie. After Santana left she had spent her weekends with Rachel and Kurt, either in New York, or in New Haven, the groups switching off every other weekend. Rachel had succeeded in attaching herself like a leach to Quinn, and she had never before quite taken the time to enjoy all of the fabulousness that was Kurt, and Blaine could be amusing. She was beginning to like New York, too, day by day, which was how a relationship between her and Mercedes was building. These were her reasons for visiting every other day but this one. This time she wasn’t coming to see Rachel or Kurt, and definitely not Blaine. She’d like it if they said hi on their way out the door, but the prize was Santana. Quinn couldn’t kid herself into believing it was any other way.

                She and Kelly talked up until the point that their train reached its destination. When the train pulled into Union Station Kelly extended a hand. “It was nice to meet you, Lucille Quinn Fabray,” he said charmingly.

                Quinn smiled brightly. “It was, Kelly.”

                There was a note of hesitation on Kelly’s part as Quinn stood up from her seat, and in a moment of daring he rushed out, “Can I call you sometime?”

                Quinn thought it over, and was even tempted to give him her number, but in the end she shook her head. The smile she offered was a slight consolation prize. “I don’t give my number out to strangers on the train, but if fate wills that we should meet again, we will.” 

                When she chanced a glance over her shoulder, she could see that he was still standing there, a smile on his features. He waved at her, and her hand was raised to wave back, when she heard her name being called, signaling that somewhere in the crowd of strangers there was someone familiar.        

                “Hey, Fabray!” She didn’t have to turn to know that the voice belonged to Santana. She eagerly searched the crowd for sight of her oldest friend, and wasn’t disappointed. Santana seemed to be standing alone in the middle of a completely crowded platform. Her sudden presence was surprising; she had expected to have to take the subway alone. Even Rachel rarely came to meet her at her stop anymore.   

                 And Santana looked…amazing. She was wearing a dress that was short, clingy, and barely decent, as usual, and she looked fabulous in it. Santana caught her checking her out, and offered a wink. Quinn felt herself blushing. That the last time that they had seen each other they had left on bad terms meant nothing. They were always leaving on bad terms and getting back together as if nothing else possibly mattered but the possibility of some good times ahead. Quinn had missed Santana while she had been on that inane trip with Brittany that had unsurprisingly turned in a much longer than three week affair. A year and two weeks; that’s how long she had been gone, and not a word had passed between them during that time. But that was okay, too, because they hadn’t made any bullshit promise to keep in touch before Santana left, so neither of them had to worry about breaking it. Quinn couldn’t actually find a thought to worry her because everything was already behind them, just like the train that had already disappeared from sight.   

                Santana fingered a strand of Quinn’s hair. It hadn’t changed from the Glee reunion. “Heard you and Puck broke up.”

                “Heard you and Brittany got married.”

                “Urban legend,” Santana said with a smile.            

                Quinn handed Santana her bag. Caught off guard by the gesture, Santana nearly fumbled it, but she caught it before it could hit the ground. “What the hell, Quinn, why am I carrying your bag?”

                But she shouldered it, and even though it was Quinn who was visiting, and Santana who lived here, Quinn led the way, and Santana followed behind.

                When they got on the subway, Quinn took the window seat, leaving Santana to fall into the space besides her, huffing out angrily, “Not sure when I became your maid, tubbers.”

                Quinn shook her head, amused, and Santana turned in the seat so she was turned slightly away from Quinn in a show of her displeasure. Quinn couldn’t help but study the slightly disgruntled look on Santana’s face. You would think that carrying Quinn’s bag was akin to Atlas having to shoulder the world. Quinn, too, turned away, watching the shadows as the train cut through the tunnel, only to turn back around a few seconds later when she felt a warm hand cup hers. Santana was still looking off to the doors of the subway, but when Quinn squeezed she gave a little halfway side smile that Quinn was sure no one else in the world ever got to see, her eyes crinkling in the corners, too, for good measure. Quinn adjusted her hand so that it was cradling Santana’s, lacing their fingers together. She rested her head on Santana’s shoulder, and they stayed like this until they made it to their stop.  

_(Why am I so emotional?)_

                Santana bounced on the balls of her feet as they walked the city streets, and Quinn couldn’t help but notice how toned her calf muscles were as they flexed and released as they walked. Santana did a little pirouette that reminded Quinn a lot of Will Ferrell in _Elf_ when he had fallen in love with Zoëy Deschanel. She wanted to ask her if her movements were for the same reason, but her lips couldn’t form the words, and what did it matter anyway, because Quinn wasn’t interested in Santana in that way, and Santana wasn’t interested in her? So she kept her mouth shut, and listened. Listened as Santana went on (and on, and on) about the last year and two weeks of her life. She talked about how Brittany had lost their passports (why she let Brittany hold them in the first place she didn’t know), and how she and Brittany spent two days leading a fake tour company where they ushered Americans around the Island, about how the air, and the sun, and the breeze, smelled, shined, and blew differently there than it did in Lima, or New Haven, or New York. She talked about places as if they were people with distinct personalities, waiting to be explored. She talked about how the homeless lined the streets of LA as a sort of macabre homage to the cost of dreams, about how they visited Russia, and Brittany wanted to hold her hand.

                As she spoke, she danced nearly as fluidly as Brittany did, reminding Quinn, as she always did, just how good of a dancer she was. With every word, or gesture, that came from Santana, Quinn was reminded of just how incredible her friend truly was, and it pained her to notice it because Santana honestly didn’t see it. Because she started every new utterance with _Brittany_ , because it was impossible to miss how it was Brittany who was leading them through this choreography, and that they had gone to places that the blonde had wanted to go, and not places that Santana’s own lusts had wanted to take her.

                Santana’s face came alive as if it were animated by her adventures, and there was this joy that had been missing from her semi-depressed years in Lima. When she talked she weaved tapestries more complex than the ones stitched by Arachne in her quest to best Minerva, and Quinn could see Santana transformed back into some ancient world, one where people gathered from miles around just to hear the sound of her voice as she told tales that were just as complex and rich, and wildly imaginative as the one she was telling now.

                If Santana _were_ an ancient, a god or deity of some sort, Quinn imagined that most people would mistakenly think of her as Bacchus. Those who didn’t know her as well as she did, would think that she was all drunken and debauchery, and indulgence, leaving a world of ruin in her wake. Santana wasn’t that. Santana was closer to Kokopelli, god of sprit and music and continuous movement. Or, even better, Hathor. Like Kokopelli, Hathor was a deity of music and dance. She was fated to roam the earth as her feet were constantly on the move, seeking out jewels beneath the earth, and a homeland. Hathor, like Santana, was two different gods: Hathor and Sekhmet. Before high school, Santana was Hathor. When she started freshman year she became Sekhmet, a tool of the gods to inspire fear, to draw on others’ weaknesses, to exact harsh and cruel punishments on the less than worthy as rebuff for perceived insults and/or indifference to the might of the divinity.

                But then graduation came, and gradually Santana returned to her former self, just as Sekhmet was returned to her true form, Hathor. Yes, that’s who Santana was.

                A tug on her hand brought her up short. “Where are you Quinnie?” Santana questioned.

                “Getting tangled up in your web.”

                Santana paused, because it was out of place, out of character, and perhaps it could mistakenly be misconstrued as sounding loving, when all Quinn meant by it was that it sounded like Santana had managed to do a whole lot in just the span of a year and two weeks.

                Santana tucked an errant hair behind Quinn’s ear. “It’s okay, Q, I missed you, too.”

  _(No it’s not a good look)_

                Santana held her shot glass high in the air. “To everyone finding a hot, warm body to climb under tonight,” she said eloquently. They all downed the shot, grimacing, and smirking at each other. Quinn found them a table because she needed something to hold on to. That was her reason for grabbing the closest hand to hers, which just happened to belong to Santana, and holding on tight. Santana didn’t hesitate to pull her to her feet, and whisk her off to the dance floor. The song was fast and upbeat, and Santana danced with her like two girl friends would, with about two feet between them.

                Santana had been back for five months now, and nowhere in that expanse of time had she a) slept with Quinn, or b) mentioned Brittany. Quinn was sure that if she asked, Santana would be sure to tell her everything, but Quinn didn’t ask, so Santana didn’t say anything about why there was Santana and there was Brittany, but they didn’t happen to be Brittana. There didn’t happen to be a her and Santana, either, because they were dancing two feet away from each other, which was okay with Quinn, because they were just friends.

                She was okay with being friends, but eventually Quinn had to pull away because it was there, that annoying wanting again. She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know what to do with it. She and Santana had sex three times, but that didn’t mean anything. The first time was unplanned and bad, the second time was just to make up for the first, and the last time was comfort sex. They hadn’t talked about what it did or didn’t mean, because there was no need. The second time was supposed to be the last, and the third time just sort of happened. 

                Quinn hadn’t spent too much time thinking about it. She didn’t want to start now. She just wanted whatever she had with Santana, to stay whatever she had with Santana.  

_(Gain some self control)_     

“Quinn?” Her name had to be repeated before she actually focused in on the woman in front of her speaking. _Rachel. Oh, right._ They had taken a break in favor of drinking, and Rachel had started to tell some story that Quinn couldn’t get interested in, and she had zoned out. Naturally her thoughts had returned to Santana.

                “You’re staring, again.”

                Quinn blinked and looked down at her companion. “What?”

                “You’re staring at Santana again,” Rachel repeated more firmly this time.

                “I wasn’t,” she tried to deny. Rachel’s look became placating, pitying.

                “Yes, you were. What is that about? Did she do something to get on your bad side?”

                “Are Santana and Brittany together?”

                She didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, it came out sounding like she was jealous, or desperate for the answer. She wasn’t, she was just curious. Rachel shrugged, knocking back another drink. “They’re Santana and Brittany,” she said, as if that were answer enough. What did that mean?

                Quinn’s eyes went back to Santana who was still dancing with that girl who had snaked her way in as soon as Quinn gave her an opening. Quinn couldn’t tell if Santana was dancing like she was single, or like she was in a relationship. If Santana and Britt were still together, she shouldn’t be dancing with another girl anyway, and if Santana was single, she didn’t see why another girl should be in her space. So she made up some excuse to Rachel, slid off of her stool, and strode over to where the two of them were.

_(Deep down I know this never works)_

                Santana caught wind of her approach and smiled at her, a smile that stopped her in her tracks. She stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, like an idiot, and Santana’s open expression furrowed into confusion. One eye brow arched. Quinn turned. What in the hell was she doing? She needed to get out of here, to go home. She needed fresh air. Unfortunately she wasn’t about to get any of that because she was halted in her stride by a hand slipping into hers and tugging. When she was turned around it was to see Santana in front of her.

                No words were spoken between them as she drew her back onto the dance floor. “I thought I was about to be introduced to Quinn Fabray’s infamous jealousy first hand,” Santana whispered into Quinn’s ear. Quinn shivered before she could cover up the reaction. “What happened?”

                Quinn blinked. “I guess I grew up.”

                Santana’s hands moved from friend space, into something that wasn’t. She leaned up flush against her, guiding Quinn’s hips in the dance. One of Santana’s hands moved to stretch across Quinn’s abdomen while the other stroked the skin on her neck. “Pity because I heard it was _really_ hot.” Quinn thought she was dreaming when she felt Santana’s mouth on her skin. The skin beneath those lips felt like they were on fire. It felt like her whole body was enflamed. She wanted to know what this meant, because this time, for the first time, it was Santana who initiated something between them. She quickly decided it didn’t have to mean anything, and she didn’t want any clarification in case it didn’t mean anything, she just wanted Santana. Luckily enough for her, that’s what Santana wanted to give her right then.

                She turned into her, their lips sealing together. It was only a matter of minutes before Santana’s tongue was in her mouth and she was sucking on it eagerly.

                Soon, far too soon, Santana pulled away.

                “Wha-?” Quinn questioned, dizzily.

                Santana kissed her again, more chaste this time. She reached down for her hand. “Stay here,” she said. “I’m going to tell the Hobbit we decided to call it a night.” There was another quick kiss. “Don’t move.”

_(But you can lay with me so it doesn’t hurt)_

 Santana pushed her into the wall, sealing her lips to her neck, kissing her hard. She didn’t let go as she opened the door, and Quinn had a moment of pause. They were on display, for anyone to walk by to see. Quinn knew she should move but she couldn’t because Santana was leaning towards her and wouldn’t stop placing kisses on her body.

                Finally the door was wrenched open, and they both fell backwards into the room, laughing.

                Quinn and Santana were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t realize, not at first, that there was someone else in the loft.

                “Hey Q, San.”

                They jumped apart as if they were both set on fire at the sound of that distinctive and all too familiar voice.

                “Shit, Britt!” Santana cursed, surreptitiously wiping at her mouth. “You scared me!”

                “Sorry,” she apologized.

                “How’d you get in here?”

                “I used Rachel’s emergency key that she leaves hidden underneath the gold star by the door. “Were you guys about to have sex?” she questioned curiously. “I can come back if you are? How long will you need…an hour?” Quinn felt like she was about to jump out of her skin. Was this seriously happening?

                Santana and Quinn looked at each other. The mood thoroughly ruined. “Uh…what’re you doing here, Brittany?”

                Brittany stood up, and Santana and Quinn pulled further apart with each other. “I wanted to talk to you.”

                Santana pulled her shirt down. “About us.”

                Quinn felt all kinds of awkward. She shifted from one foot to the other, before she stepped away. “I’m going to go.”

                “No, wait Quinn, you don’t have to,” Santana said. “Just give us like five…?”

                Quinn frowned. “Good night, Santana, Brittany.” 

                And she walked out the door.

                Quinn was a block away from the subway when she heard her name. “Quinn, but really Lucille Fabray?” She had that feeling that you get when you’re walking through an unfamiliar city, and you happen to catch site of something that makes you feel like you’re home.  “Okay, now you have to admit, this has to be fate!”

                Quinn schooled her features, and turned around.

  _(Oh won’t you)_

              Kellen looked the same as he did when they were on the train, just as p.a., but with that hemp bracelet, and a smile just for her. “So does this mean I at least get a cup of coffee?” he questioned.

                “I thought we promised no stalking.”

                “I wasn’t. I was visiting a friend. He actually lives right around the corner.”

                “Me, too.” Quinn said. “Visiting a friend.”

                Kellen looked her over. “Looks like your visit didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to,” he noted.

                _It never does._

                “One cup. No expectations. Maybe it will make your night better.”

                Quinn was surprised when the smile she gave him was actually genuine. “Maybe.”

 

_(Stay with me?)_

                Quinn was so caught up with Kellen that she didn’t look at her phone until they had said good-night, and by then it was late. She had several missed calls and texts from Santana and instead of wading through them, she decided to save herself the trouble and just call her. To her surprise Santana picked up the phone right away. “Where the fuck are you, Fabray?”

                “Where are you?”

                “I’m outside of your dorm. Where are you?”

                Quinn didn’t understand. “You’re, you’re in New Haven?”

                “Duh, aren’t you?”

                “Why are you in New Haven?”

                “You weren’t answering my calls!”          

                “I was busy.”

                “Oh come on, we both know that your busy is code for ignoring my calls. Look, about Brittany…”

                “You don’t have to do that, San, come up with some explanation. It is what it is and it’s not what it’s not, and I know that you’ll always go back to her.”

                “That’s not- I’m not having this conversation in your dorm hallway. Damn it, will you stop being so goddamn stubborn and open the door?”

                “I’m not in New Haven, Santana, I’m in New York, still.”

                It was really quiet on the line. “You didn’t come back to the loft.”

                “I didn’t want to walk in on something I didn’t need to see.”

                “What’d you think I’d go from fucking you to fucking her in a blink?”

                 Honestly? Yes.

                “What did Brittany want?”

                “She’s coming off of tour, and...it doesn’t really matter. I don’t want to talk about Brittany, we were in the middle of something. So can you open the door now?”

                “I’m really in New York, San.”

                There was another bout of silence on the phone. “Well, it would have been nice if you had like warned me of that before I traveled all the way to freaking Connecticut, Q. Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do now? I got on the last train out!”

                “Give me a few minutes? I’ll see if I can get in contact with the RA.”

                Quinn reluctantly hung up on Santana, and called Yolanda. She explained how she had made plans for her best friend from high school to come visit, and how they had mixed up the weekends, and now she was there with no place to sleep, and no way to get back tonight. Luckily her RA liked her enough to bend the rules, and she promised to let Santana into her room.

                “Oh thank you, you’re such a lifesaver!”

                She called Santana back, and waited on the phone with her until Yolanda had let her into Quinn’s dorm, and for some reason she stayed on the phone even after that. They fell asleep talking to each other, wrapped up in each other’s scents, instead of wrapped up in each other’s arms.

                In the morning, she hopped on the first train to New Haven, but when she got back to her room she was surprised to see that it was empty. 

                “Where are you?”

                Quinn could her noises in the background, traffic. “Grand Central, where are you?” Santana must have left on the first morning train, too.

                “At my dorm. I thought you’d wait for me.”

                “I thought you were going to stay in New York.”

                As she listened to Santana let out a string of curse words she wondered if this was just poor luck or if it was fate trying to tell them that they would always miss each other.

_(Cause you’re all I need)_

                “Kelly?” Santana questioned doubtfully. Quinn could see the sneer lining her face. “His name is Kelly?”

                “It’s Kellen.”

                “That’s not much better. Actually it’s not better at all. What’s with you and names anyway?”

                “What are you talking about?”

                “Finn, Puck, Biff, Sam, Joe, Kellen? Do you realize that you have only been attracted to men who can count the number of letters in their name on one hand?”

                Quinn’s immediate thought was that Santana was longer than five letters. “Sam’s a Samuel, and Joe was a Joseph. Besides Puck,”

                “Is Noah, and my point still stands. You have a thing for stupid boys with stupid names.”

                _And you have a thing for blondes._

                “I don’t like it Quinn. What do you even know about him?”

                “He’s 24, he’s in his last year of law school here, he has an older brother and sister, he was on the crew team in undergrad, he likes college football, hates pro-,”

                “Yeah, but what do you _really_ know about him? He approached you on a train.”

                “It’s kind of romantic.”

                “It’s kind of stalkerish.”

                “We go to the same school,”

                “Yeah, because just because he goes to Yale doesn’t mean he can’t be some psycho killer. That guy from _Kiss the Girls_ , he went to a top school.”

                “The book took place at a top school, he didn’t go there. He was a cop.”

                “That Amy Brown chick, then. She was a Harvard grad.”

                “Yes, _Harvard_ , not Yale.”

                “I don’t like it,” Santana repeated herself.

                “You still haven’t given me a reason for why not.”

                Santana eyes drew fire even across the computer screen. _Say it, say something_ , Quinn thought in her head, as she fought to not be the first to blink. The intensity was muted somewhat, since they weren’t standing in front of each other, but it was something close to enough, and yet so far, far away from what was needed. “You know what? If you want to go out with this guy, fine, do it. But if he ends up slashing your throat or liking Rick Perry, don’t come crying to me about it.”

                Quinn threw her hands up, irritated. “Wow, thanks for being supportive about this, San. How long has it been since I’ve been excited about going out with someone? How long has it been since there’s been anyone on the radar? You don’t hear me bashing any girl that you’ve gone out with, or took to bed, so can you offer me the same sort of courtesy?”

                Santana huffed, and didn’t say anything. Personally Quinn was somewhat thrilled because if Santana was acting like this because she was jealous, then that meant that she had to feel something for Quinn, right? Mostly, though, she was irritated, because Quinn had had to watch either the Santana and Brittany show, or the random three month relationship show with Santana for three years now, and she kept her personal feelings to herself, unless the girl really deserved her criticism.

                And she was actually excited about this date. Kelly was a good, funny, interesting guy. He was knowledgeable in the things that she found interesting, he thought the Buzzfeed lists were funny, he could sing the whole Lion King sound track from beginning to end. She could see herself with him, she could. If you couldn’t be with the one that you loved, go after the one that you can be with…or something like that.  “I guess I’m just going to go,” Quinn finally said. “Have a nice night, Santana.”

                “Wait, Quinn!”

                Quinn paused, her finger hovering over her mouse. “What?” It came out sharper than she intended, and Santana shrank back.

                “Hope you have a nice date.”

                It wasn’t _I’m_ sorry, or better yet, it wasn’t a confession of love, but it was close enough.

                “Thank you.”

                Their eyes met one last time before Quinn ended the session and she was staring at the background of her Skype box.       

(This ain’t love)

                Quinn startled at the sound of knocking on her dorm door. She checked the time to make sure that yeah, she still had two hours before her date with Kelly, and anyway, he wouldn’t come up to her dorm room to get her. She was friendly with a couple of girls on her hall, but they all knew that when the door was closed she didn’t entertain company. So who could it be?

                The door was hardly cracked before it was pushed open, and the knocker was pushing their way into the room. In the sudden rush it took Quinn a moment to realize who it was. “Santana? What’re you doing here?”

                “That’s kind of the wrong question, Q,” Santana said, breathlessly.

                “What’s the right one?”

                Santana didn’t answer with any words that were verbalized. She answered with her lips. She pinned Quinn to the wall, remembering to put a hand up to cradle her head from meeting with the back of it. Santana’s kiss was impatient, and needy, and desperate, and everything. It was everything, and Quinn wanted to give everything back to it. So she did. It took a surprisingly long time to get out of their clothes, considering how much Quinn just wanted to feel Santana against her again.

                After, when they were lying together, Santana traced circles on her stomach. “Sorry, about your date. I just came down here to help you get ready, be a good ‘girl friend’, you know like we were in high school, but then when I saw you again, I couldn’t help thinking about how much I just want to fuck you. You’re so fucking gorgeous Q. And I just wanted you to know that.” 

_(It’s clear to see)_

                Kelly smiled when he saw her, shifting his feet as his hands were spread to entice her into a hug. “You look lovely,” he declared right before he kissed her.

                Quinn smiled back at him. “You look handsome, yourself.”

                They exchanged arms for each other’s hand.

                “When do I get to meet your friends?”

                Quinn hesitated, remembering back to that failed experience when she had introduced the Glee kids to Biff, but she and Kelly had far fewer secrets between the two of them. He even knew that Quinn had called off her first date because she and Santana had hooked up, and yet, 7 months later, they were still together. She had decided to try something that she hadn’t had in any of her past relationships: honesty. She liked Kelly, and she wanted to keep him around. And surprisingly, the whole honesty thing was working. “You want to?”

                Kelly’s amused smile came out. “Of course. They say you never truly know someone until you meet their friends, and I’m not talking about your Yale buddies.”

                “Okay,” Quinn said after a minute or two. “When?”

                “Whenever.”

                “Santana’s not going to like you,” Quinn said bluntly. 

                “Because she’s in love with you?” Kelly guessed. Quinn almost choked at the idea of it. She didn’t think that Brittany was the only one who would ever have Santana’s love, but she also didn’t think that Santana had any particularly strong feelings for Quinn. She knew she loved her, how else could they explain their friendship, but as for the other love, she knew she wasn’t and she never would be. She knew, too, that the same was true both for how she felt about Kelly, and how Kelly felt about her. Not that he would never love her, or that she would never love him, but as of right now, they weren’t in love with each other, and they both knew it. That, too, Quinn was fine with.

                “She’s not in love with me,” Quinn dismissed, “but she’s territorial, and she’ll think you’re a pompous ass, and any attempt to convince her that you’re not will be met with derision and skepticism. Probably some well placed barbs as well.”

                “So what do I do to win her over?” Kelly questioned.

                Quinn spent a minute thinking about it. “You don’t,” she said honestly.

                Kelly considered that. “Is this woman important to you?”

                “She’s my best friend.”

                “So I just have to just accept that there’s simply nothing I will be able to do to win over my girlfriend’s best friend?”

                “Pretty much. But if it makes you feel any better, you probably won’t like her either.”

                That drew a small smile from Kelly.

                Quinn arranged a meeting for him to meet Rachel and Kurt, and Blaine and Mercedes, and Brittany and Santana, and Santana’s girlfriend, Josie. Even though Brittany knew about Santana and Quinn and their hook-ups, and wasn’t upset about it, it was still weird seeing how easy going Brittany was about Santana and Josie. The three of them acted like they were all the best of friends, and Quinn just didn’t seem to get it. Santana realized that, too, she was sure, because she would always give her these little smiles from time to time.

                The meeting went the way Quinn imagined it would. Rachel fawned over him, Brittany dropped a non-sequitor, Kurt quietly observed, Blaine attempted to prove how normal of a guy he was, Mercedes had a look about her like ‘oh, another one’, Josie didn’t care, and Santana? Santana was the shocker. Santana was nice. Santana was cordial, one could even say that Santana was friendly.  

                “So you like him?” Quinn questioned for the third time once they were alone. Santana laughed, turning so that she could see Quinn face to face.

                “Is that so hard to believe?”

                “Yes.”

                Santana placed her palm flat against her cheek, rubbing softly. “If you like him, I like him. Believe it or not, I like it when you’re happy.” She didn’t know what to do with that. It was wrong. The whole thing just seemed wrong. “So is he the one?” Santana questioned wryly. “Does he make your lady parts all tingly?”

                Quinn smiled thinking about all things about him that she liked. “He’s definitely got potential,” Quinn replied.

                Santana nodded. “I asked Josie if it was okay if I sleep with you,” she said casually. Quinn probably looked like an approximation of one of those cartoon characters when they’re eyes bug out of their heads. “What?”

                “I asked Josie if it was okay if I slept with you,” she repeated.

                Her flesh burned at the words at the same time her mind was screaming in anger at 1) Santana’s presumption that Quinn wanted to sleep with her, 2) Santana’s presumption that she would cheat on Kelly, 3) that she had assumed that Quinn would sleep with her, 4) that she asked her _girlfriend_ if it was okay if she slept with…she wasn’t sure what to label Santana. They hadn’t tried again to have sex since she stood Kelly up, so friend. She was upset that she’d asked her girlfriend if it was okay if she slept with her friend. Who does that? She couldn’t believe Santana’s gall…but the loudest voice really, really just wanted to know what Josie said.

                Quinn and Santana held each other’s gaze. Quinn’s tongue nervously licked her lips. “What’d she say?”

                “She said if I felt I needed to…and I need to, Quinn.”

                Quinn felt that nervous, fluttery, almost sickely feeling inside of her. “W-why is that?”

                “To say good-bye.”  

                “Oh,” Quinn wasn’t sure what to do with that. “Good-bye?”

                Santana nodded, and then she shrugged. “Not to us being friends, of course, but to us…I don’t know, gravitating towards each other when we get lonely. Relationships need closure. You have to have closure to move on with your next relationship, and…we both have people, you know? I want to give this me and Josie thing a shot. You want to give this Kelly thing a shot. We don’t need to both have one foot in the water. Your partner deserves to have everything you can give them, not one foot in, one foot out.”

                It was so true, so very true, but part of Quinn, the part that woke up happy whenever she was in Santana’s arms, thought that that person was Santana. The one that deserved her all. She didn’t know how it would work, she knew she couldn’t come out to her parents, not until they stopped footing the bill for her education, she didn’t even know how she’d survive being with Santana, but the person that Quinn first envisioned at those words was standing in front of her.

                Santana maneuvered herself directly in front of Quinn. She caught Quinn’s gaze, and held it, read her thoughts as they flickered between green, brown, and gold. Her hand stroked her cheek bone. “You have no idea how easily I could _drown_ in you.”

                In a matter of seconds, a blink of an eye really, Quinn saw it all, she saw them dating for a few years, shuffling back and forth, she saw one of them working while the other attended grad school and arguing about late night study sessions, and stupid bosses. She saw one day proposing to Santana, she saw them lazily having quickies on Sunday morning, and picking out china patterns together. She saw the double looks that people would give them when they walked by, she saw the hassle of going through adoption, or the cold sterility of a sperm bank, the awkward conversations around holiday meals, her parents forever referring to them as roommates, bible thumpers ruining special events with their signs telling them they were going to burn in hell.   

                Santana was leaning in before Quinn had even set her mind right, and when their lips touched, she didn’t see anything other than Santana.

( _So Darling_ )

                Quinn wanted to stay asleep. All of the good things were waiting for her behind her eyes, but her mind was gently encouraging her to open them until the impulse got so strong that, like a full bladder, it demanded to be paid attention to. She didn’t understand the urgency, at first, but she got it when she saw Santana’s bare back turned towards her. She realized that Santana was seeking out her discarded underwear from the floor.  Quinn had a flashback to the first time, to this scene.

                It hit her suddenly: Santana didn’t realize that Quinn was awake. She thought that Quinn was asleep, and she was just going to leave. Not a good bye, nothing. Quinn sensed she was turning, and she closed her eyes. Seconds later, she felt those lips on her forehead, pressing a kiss to them, and lingering. A hand touched her face, brushing hair from it. Santana was staring. Santana was staring at her, and she couldn’t see the expression that was on her face, she didn’t know if it was a tender look, or a look of disgust, or was it triumph? She needed to open her eyes, but she was too scared of what she would see when she did.

                There was a sigh, and the shadows that hovered over her increasing until those press of lips pushed down against her own. The bed creaked, as Santana removed her weight from it. Stood up, possibly adjusted herself. It wasn’t until Quinn heard the creak of the door that she opened her eyes in time to see the most heartbreaking of sights: Santana walking away from her. She needed to say something, anything, she couldn’t let this happen, and she knew that the power was in her hands. She knew, too, that maybe Santana knew that Quinn was awake, and that sigh was because whatever this was, Santana realized that Quinn was the one who wouldn’t ever realize it.

                 The proper words found themselves on Quinn’s lips right before the door closed behind Santana, and on everything that they didn’t have, and never would: _“Stay with me.”_

 

 


	2. I know I'm not the only one

(You and Me)

"Hello?"

Quinn smiled at the sound of Santana's voice on the phone. She had waited an hour  and  a half to call; she knew that Santana wasn't surprised. "You didn't stay."

"Did you expect me to?"

The answer was no, but she had wanted her to.  T he more she thought about it,  though,  the more she realized that she had it backwards. She had expected her to, but no, she hadn't wanted her to. She didn’t want the morning on what they had done. She wanted to stay in the nighttime  where she didn't have to make any decisions, and didn't have to surrender her hold on Santana. 

Quinn shifted comfortably. "I at least thought you'd treat breakfast."

"You know me better than that."

"I do know you," Quinn agreed. She and Santana knew each other and now they really knew each other. "Was it good?" 

"It's better...with feelings. Hey Q, I'm meeting up with Rachel and Kurt, can I call you later?"

"Yea..."

"Thanks." There was a pause, as if Santana was considering whether or not she should say something, but then she rushed out a "Bye," and ended the call.

To no one's surprise, they drifted apart. 

The thing about high school is that you are experimenting with who you are. You are under your  parents’  rule, and your teachers ’  tutelage, and there are several entities that have near total control over your life, all whispering in your ear who you're supposed to be  and you spend a lot of time listening. In college, though, you start to figure out who you are piece-by-piece. You figure it out when you either stay on campus or go home immediately following your classes. You figure it out when you read the notices on the way to class, or walk past them without noticing them. You figure it out if you study abroad, or take that internship, or join the mock-trial association, or if you become an RA. You figure it out if you perceive an injustice and join a political action group  to try to ratify it , or join student government, a frat, or spend your time alone in your dorm room playing video games. You figure it out when your classmate tells you he has the answers to an upcoming test that will make or break your grade. You figure it out when you make the wrong turn on a dark night. You figure it out when you start to realize that the world isn't entirely everything you thought it to be. You get those important pieces  with every grade, and with every club, and with every party, and  with every failure, and  when your former best friend calls you, and you choose to either answer the call, or send it to voicemail. You figure it out when your former best friends get married, and you don't even show up to the wedding.

But it isn't really until that first year out of college, once you have your degree, and you're struggling to find work, and you have bills in front of you that are very demanding of your attention for possibly the first time in your life, that you really get an idea of who you are. Quinn wasn't Quinn in high school. Santana wasn't Santana. Once they got to college they had to figure out who they were. It turns out what Santana really needed in order to honestly be her self was to be away from the people that she had used to define her  her whole life. Not necessarily forever, just for a moment. She needed to spread out all of those labels that belonged to her, the one's that she couldn't change, the one's that she had developed for herself, and the one's that she was just waiting to become, and she needed to see how they all fit together. She needed someone who had some of the answers, but even better than that, she needed someone who asked all the right questions.  For Santana that wasn’t Quinn, and for Quinn that wasn’t Santana.

As much as Quinn tried to fight it, she really was a  Fabray . She was drawn to success, to tradition. It wasn't that it was just the life that her parents expected her to live, it was that it was something that she was comfortable with. She actually wanted a stately house, with a picket fence, and 2.5 kids. She wanted to walk into any room she came across and be comfortable. She wanted the gated community, and the country clubs, and the security of never not knowing what came around the corner. She discovered this the very first trip that she and Kelly took where they could have gone to Greece or Nigeria, and she chose Greece, and again when the choice was between Rio and Paris. She discovered this when Kelly suggested that for grad school she might try something more marketable than theatre, and she agreed. She discovered this when she allowed her hair to grow out, only to pin it up in buns or put it into  single  ponytails, wearing it down only for parties of the kind that you wore ball gowns for. She discovered this when she only marginally kept up with her friends from Glee. She discovered this when she didn't go chasing after Santana that day in the hotel room. 

So they drifted apart. 

But not at first. 

At first they were Quinn and Santana, two thirds of the Unholy Trinity. It took exactly two months for them to get past the awkwardness after the last time they had sex, but then they were back to talking sporadically. They sat together on trains and buses  and didn't hold hands, they talked about their weekends and didn't flirt, they joked on Rachel, (good-naturedly of course), and showed up at events when Kurt demanded their presence, and supported Mercedes when she dropped her first album, and Sam when he got his modeling gig, and Brittany, when she began studying to become a kindergarten teacher. They even slept in the same bed with each other one weekend, and kept all parts of their bodies to themselves. From time to time they spent time without talking, but not too much, not intentionally.  They didn’t let too much space gain air beneath them.   That is u ntil the day Santana said those  fateful  words:

“We’re moving.”

Quinn was stunned because she had managed to build this life where she had Santana, and she had Kelly, and although she had some of her other friends as well, it didn’t count as much because she had the two people in her life that mattered the most. 

“Who, we?”

Santana smiled. She did that a lot when a certain person came  up ,or  maybe it was simply because the answer should have been obvious . “Josie.”

“Where?” 

Cross town would be inconvenient for getting coffee together, but it wasn’t that bad. “Mauna Kea.”

Quinn’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Is that in Canada?”

“Hawaii. On the big island.”

“You’re moving to Hawaii?”

“There’s a  really good observatory there. One of the best places to see the stars.”

This both made sense and didn’t. Quinn had probably been the most surprised when Santana had made an announcement that no one was ever expecting to hear come out of her mouth: instead of dedicating her life to singing, or acting, or even dance,  she was going to become an astronomer.  Santana  was going to be an astronomer. The person who had no definitive direction for her life other than ‘fame’ in high school, decided that instead of becoming a star, she wanted to dedicate her life to studying them.

“I have Brittany to thank,” Santana explained, the night she told Quinn. “When we were traveling, we ended up in some really obscure places, places that were small and had very little light pollution, and you look up, Quinn, and you can see it.” She had that look again. The same look that she had when she came back from that year in Lesbos, like her feet were just barely touching the ground and maybe her words were the only thing that were keeping her feet planted. “Millions, billions of stars. One night I was on a beach, I don’t even remember where, and I’m just looking up at them and I was trying to put life and everything else into perspective. I  thought  about what I wanted, who I was, and it came to me: I’m nobody.”

She held up a hand with an easy smile, because she knew Quinn’s objection. “Not like in a bad way.  Not as in I’m a loser, or anything like that, but that  I’m nothing more than energy. Beautiful energy, enjoyable energy, fun energy,  yes,  but when I die,” she pointed up, “that’s where I’m going. People look at the night sky, and they see only darkness, but it’s beautiful, it’s so alive, it’s so amazing ! ” Santana paused to look at Quinn, and she was so devastatingly beautiful in that moment, so unearthly.  She was an angel who lost her wings, but unlike every other angel who had ever fallen from the cosmos, somehow  Santana  had managed to find them again.  “I found my purpose.”

Apparently. Quinn didn’t believe it, not even after she had her degree, or when she was shopping for graduate programs, but now that she was standing in front of her, looking at her friend with stars in her eyes and talking about an inactive volcano on an island in the middle of the pacific and working on her PH.D, that’s when Quinn started to listen. It was embarrassing, in a way, because her first thought when her friend told her that she had found something to dedicate her life to was: how is that possibly going to pay the bills ?  And it was in that moment that she realized how very different the two of them really were.  Away from Lima, Santana had blo ss omed, grew, and exploded out into the cosmos while Quinn discovered that maybe she was  just  that girl after all. 

“Josie’s okay with all this?” She wasn’t really asking if Josie was okay, she was asking  if  she  was  okay  with this and Josie was just her  convenient subject filler. Was she okay with it? 

That night in the hotel, it had been a catalyst. It was the point where if anything was to happen between them, it would have happened, and it hadn’t. Quinn loved Santana, she knew that she did, there was no denying that. She knew that Santana loved her back. But it wasn’t that explosive love. Explosive love ran after the other person. Explosive love told the woman in the bed to cut her shit because she knew you were awake, and to sit up because it was time for them to talk.  Explosive love broke down all barriers, and flew into every crack, corner, and crevice and filled it up. They didn’t have that. 

No, Quinn hadn’t chosen Santana, but Santana had chosen her either. And that spoke volumes.  Explosive love crashed into each other.

And  Quinn was actually happy. She was happy in her life. She was happy with Kelly. He was everything she could have asked for in a significant other. He was wealthy, smart, and attractive (let’s face it, Quinn was never going to be with someone that wasn’t at least two of those three, if not all three), he was friendly, he was funny, and he was kind. She didn’t imagine what Santana was doing when she was with him ;  she loved being with him, she loved him. She loved every aspect of their relationship. Kelly wasn’t a stand in for Santana. The two of them both had people that they loved dearly, and they had successfully managed to occupy this space where they were friends and happy for each other. Quinn had just never had to live apart from Santana before, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to start.

“It’s Hawaii, Quinn. Josie can do what she does anywhere in the country, there’s only so many places where I can do what I do.”

Which meant, as far as Quinn was concerned, that maybe it wasn’t something that she was supposed to do. 

“She must really love you.”

Santana made her look her in the eye. “I love her.”

And so she did.

“When’s the wedding?”

Santana grinned her little girl grin. “Soon. Not yet,” she said, “but soon. We’re going to get married on the beach.”

It  sh ould come as a surprise to no one that Quinn let her leave. 

(We made a Vow)

Shortly after the decision was made, Kelly took her out to a restaurant  after acting strangely for some time  before that . In between dinner and desert, with a sheen of sweat on his brow, he took her hand in his, looking as if he were about to face the firing squad. Quinn had yet to tel l him that Santana was leaving for the sheer fact that she didn’t imagine it would change anything, or that Kelly would care. 

“Quinn, honey, I still contend that it was fate that put us together, and whether it’s true or not, my life has been nothing but better since you came in it.  Quinn  Fabray ? Will you marry me?”

She couldn’t help the smile that dawned on her face like the sun rising. She was so overcome by the proposal that she was nodding, and tears were falling from her eyes. “Yes!”

Kelly looked around wildly, looking stunned. He looked like h e was about to present his case; his rebuttal to the objection that didn’t come.  “Yes? You said yes?” Overcome he couldn’t help himself. “She said yes!”

People looked over, there was some small smattering of applause, and somehow they ended up in each other’s arms , k issing each other tastefully, and hugging. Kelly held her at arms length. “Really, Quinn? It’s yes ? ”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Kelly.”

He hugged her tightly. “God, I love you. Have I said I love you?”

“I think you did,” Quinn said, happily. 

A serious look washed over his face, and tears welled in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Quinn couldn’t stop smiling. She smiled as they walked hand and hand, her new ring on her finger, she smiled when Kelly bought her a flower from a street vendor, she smiled when he walked her to her door, and they kissed good night on the stoop. She smiled when he seemed surprised that she pulled him inside and they celebrated their engagement by having sex. She smiled as she fell asleep with his arm around her, h er  fingers buried in her chest hair, and she realized that this was the man she was going to wake up next to every day for the rest of her life. There was just a pause, just one as she  contemplated telling e very body in her life her news, when she realized that  everyone  included Santana.  Santana. Santana who was getting married soon. On the beach.  To Josie.

Judy approved, Russell was over the moon. Rachel thought it was so great, Mercedes finally looked at Kelly as if he had some permanence.  Santana called her up and offered her congratulations.

“Really?” Quinn questioned. “You mean it?”

“Have we gotten to the point yet where we can be happy for each other’s happiness?” Santana questioned. She wasn’t there in front of her, so Quinn had to imagine the look that Santana would have fixed her with. “I’m happy for you Quinn.” She sounded so much more mellow over the phone. How was it that peace crept inside of Santana and it changed her for the better, but Quinn missed so much the snaps, the harsh words, the ‘real truth’ that she  used to  dish out?  It was nice that they could talk about their feelings, but damn how she missed her pointed barbs.  How was it that Santana being better felt worse to Quinn?  “I love that you are happy.” More mellow, less intense Santana questioned, “Do I get to be a bridesmaid?”

It didn’t seem right. It seemed like the twilight zone. It didn’t seem right  that  when she had accepted Kelly  back when they were dating , had tried to get along with him, and it didn’t seem right now. Life was finally all right with her, so how did it seem  all  wrong?

Santana was the maid of honor, and her smile was brighter than anyone else’s as she and Kelly  gave their  vows, but honestly Quinn didn’t notice because Kelly took up almost all of her attention. It wasn’t until after the ‘I do’s’ were said that Quinn found out that Santana and Josie had broken up. She went on her honeymoon wondering if anything would have changed had she known that before , and decided that it wouldn’t have. She had chosen the path that she wanted . 

(For Better or For Worse)

“Ooh, ooh,” Quinn started off.

“Baby love, my baby love. I need  ya , oh how I need  ya ,” Santana came in.

Brittany was right behind her. “But all you do is treat me bad,” she held her hands over her heart, forgetting about the paintbrush in her hand. “Break my heart and leave me sad.” She gave a stage frown. 

Santana reached for her hand, and twirled her around.  “Tell me what did I do wrong? To make you  stay  away so long?”

She twirled Brittany into  Quinn ’s hands as they harmonized the part. “Baby love, my baby love. Been missing you, miss kissing  ya .” Quinn got too close to Brittany, cause she planted a kiss on her lips, and then one on Santana’s, which of course meant that Quinn and Santana had to kiss at:  “ instead of breaking up, we should be kissing and making up.” They smiled at each other, as Brittany chimed in the background, “Don’t throw our love away.”

They finished the  s ong in a fit of giggles, all of them with a little paint on them, Brittany with the most. They collapsed on the floor , staring at their hard work. “This looks good,” Santana commented. 

Brittany raised her hands for hi-five’s, holding on to both Santana’s and Quinn’s after. “This is so much fun, guys !  The Unholy Trinity, past, present,” her hand came down on Quinn’s belly. “Future.”

“Does Kelly want a junior?” Santana questioned.

“Oh, heaven’s no!” Quinn said with a chuckle. “He’s not that kind of guy. He was actually thinking about naming the baby after me. Well, my grandfather. Quinton. Quinton Davis Richardson.”

Santana looked like she was thinking it over, while Brittany clapped. “I like it!” She turned to Santana. “Let’s have a baby, San.”

Santana’s eyes got big. “Let’s talk about that some other time, Britt.”

Brittany leaned over Quinn to give Santana a kiss on the lips less innocent than when she was singing. “Promise?”

Santana nodded.  Quinn looked from one of them to the other . Quinn felt  better about Santana seeing her and Brittany  back  together, because even mellow, more actualized Santana would of course get back together with Brittany. It was ground that Quinn was familiar with;  it didn't throw her off. "I can't w ait to meet him, Quinn,” Brittany said cheerfully. 

The hand automatically dropped to her belly. “I can’t either,” Quinn admitted.

She didn’t suspect that they would get pregnant right away, but here they were, and she was excited, so excited. She hoped that he had red hair, like Kelly, and hazel eyes. Wouldn’t that be a combination? 

“Okay,” Santana said suddenly, hopping up. She helped Quinn to her feet. “It’s time for all pregnant women to leave. She slapped Quinn on the butt. “Shoo, shoo.  That goes for my incredibly hot girlfriend, too."

She pushed Brittany and Quinn out of the room. She had plans and it needed to be an absolute surprise. 

It was another three months and twelve hours of labor before Luke Davis Richardson came into the world. It was the second time in her life that a child that she birthed was placed in her arms, but this time it was a child that she got to keep, and that alone made her cry. He came out with a tuft of red hair, and when Quinn looked at him for the first time she felt home. Just that: home. 

When she woke, it was to find Santana holding her baby, with Kelly bouncing around beside he r. They way Kelly was caressing him in Santana's arms, it could have been his and Santana's baby, instead of hers and Kelly's.  “Isn’t he the be st looking kid you’ve ever seen?” he demanded. “Heir to the throne.”

“He looks like an alien,” Santana remarked with a cute little smirk on her face. 

“He doesn’t look like an alien!” Kelly said outraged.

“All newborns look like a liens,” Eileen Richardson  agreed  with a gentle smile for her son.

Santana smirked, but she  looked down at the baby in love, and didn’t look  at him  like Quinn had given birth to a lizard baby, and Quinn pretended to be asleep for awhile longer because for some reason the sight of Santana holding her son was just too good  of a sight for  her to want to give up  so soon . That was until Santana looked over at her, their eyes connected, and Quinn felt like she was floating through one of Santana’s hidden galaxies, alone, unattached and disconnected to anything but the eyes that looked at her.  Santana gave a wink, specifically the one that she had given at prom so many years ago. Quinn was glad that she was propped up in the bed at the very moment. 

It wasn’t until four months later, when Quinn was rocking Luke to sleep in the nursery where he would sleep without  his parents for the first time in his life,  that Quinn got to see the gift that Santana had done for the baby. Above his head, painstakingly done, she had placed the constellations, one star at a time.  Quinn hadn’t noticed them before because they  nearly matched the c olor of the  c eiling, but if she looked hard enough  in the light  she could see the  florescent stickers that had been silently collecting light all this time,  storing it away  for the night when he would be alone in his nursery, in the  not so alien  dark. 

While Quinn and Brittany had been sitting down to a movie downstairs,  Santana had given her baby the universe. 

(I can’t believe you let me down)

Quinn wondered if she had misheard him. “You what?”

Kelly looked up at her from where he was  squatting on the ground, holding her hand, and looking at her pleadingly. “I said-,”

“I heard what you said,” she snapped. She felt her world crashing down around her. She stood up, going into the kitchen. She started to pull down a glass, but paused because she was nursing, still, and she couldn’t give Luke whisky filled breast milk. 

“I’m sorry, honey!”

“You’re sorry,” Quinn screamed at him. She didn’t worry about the baby waking up. There was enough square footage between them that she was able to yell.  “You have a wife, and a two year old, and you’re sorry ?  Good to  fucking  know ! Kellen Richardson is fucking sorry! ”

“Watch your language!”

“Don’t you  dare  tell me what to watch, Kellen ! ” she seethed.  " How about you watch where you put your dick!”

So this is what it felt like . Quinn silently thought, as she paced up and down the kitchen between the refrigerator and the table, turning every time she reached the end of the island. She stopped at the thought of the Island. It made her think of Santana, and Hawaii, and how Santana and Josie didn’t get married, but she did, and how Santana and Brittany had gotten back together, but weren’t still now, and that Brittany was going to be getting married in just a few more months, and Santana was once more single. She was an island.  Santana.  A  fucking  self actualized island, with her stars, and her students, and her whispered confession to Quinn that she was thinking about writing a book of astrology for kids, and would it be okay if she dedicated he first book to Luke?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

She turned and faced him. “God, do they not teach men anything better to say than that tired old shit?  You’re a Yale graduate, is that all you can come  up with :  t hat  you  didn’t mean for it to happen? How the hell do you just have sex with someone-,”

“You tell me, Quinn!” Kelly was done being the repentant whipping boy. She forgot that he was a fighter. That beneath his ability to laugh it off, and offer a quick smile and a kind word, he could spar if he needed to. He was a lawyer after all. “ Twice . You did it twice, to a woman that is still in our lives ! ”

“Santana and I haven’t-,”

“I know you two haven’t , she would have told me if you had ! ” Kelly said, his voice lowering. Fight gone. “That’s not what I’m saying.  I’m asking for understanding because of our past.  I didn’t mean for t his  to happen. I was attracted to her, and she made herself available, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. We haven’t really been intimate since Luke has been born-”

“You find time for us to be intimate between his feeding schedule and your job.”

“I asked if it was maybe time that you weaned him off.”

“Breast milk is the best thing you can give your child.”

“He’s 2 now ! ” He held up his hands. “I’m not blaming the breast milk, and I’m not blaming you Quinn, this was me, this was all me. I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much to you  right now , but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You are seriously the love of my life, and she…she was exciting. She was danger. I was flirting with it, but I didn’t think I would ever go there, and I never will again. I never will again, honey. ”

Tears brimmed in Quinn’s eyes. “Who is it?”

There was no hesitation.  “ Yuliya .”

“Your  secretary ?”  How fucking cliché!

Kellen nodded. “She’s not anymore. I asked that she be moved to a different department. I’ve notified HR of our…indiscretion.”

“Do you love her?”

“God, no. I love  you . I’ll even leave the firm if that’s what you need me to do to prove it to you. I’ll let you check my cell phone and email every day, I’ll-,”

Quinn walked out of the room. She went into Luke’s room and crawled into bed beside her sleeping baby, brush ing  the hair off of his forehead so she could kiss it. 

(But the proof’s in the way it hurts)

Quinn woke up with Luke’s movement’s, for a moment not knowing how she had ended up in her son’s bed, but then she remembered . I f Luke wasn’t waking up, she would have buried her face in the pillow and bawled her eyes out, because god, this hurt. It hurt so badly in a way that Quinn never thought anything in her life would hurt her. For the first time in her life, she had put all of her faith, and all of her trust, and all of her love in someone,  only to have him cheat.

She wasn’t so much of a hypocrite not to realize that she deserved to know what this felt like. Her hands were by no way clean, and maybe that’s what hurt the most. Knowing she had to forgive him. How could she not when she had first stood him up to have sex with her best friend, and then cheated on h im  to do it again? She had cheated on Puck, and she had cheated on Finn, and she had cheated on Sam, and now she knew what it felt like to be cheated on, and she felt so bad for ever causing this feeling in anyone else, that she called up each of them, and visited Finn’s grave, and apologized profusely, because she loved Kelly so much, and sitting on the couch and listening to him tell her that he had a ‘indiscretion’ with his secretary, it hurt. It hurt her so very much, and she had no one to talk to about it, because if she called Santana up, she would kill Kelly, and if death were the proper response to a cheating partner then she would have been dead a long time ago (not that God hadn’t tried). 

So she dealt with it in silence, and she forgave  him.

It was a one-time thing.

And it was. It really was. After their conversations, Kelly left no doubts. That distance she had started to feel with him, it was quickly closed up, settled, and packed away. Kelly cut back hours at his work so he was home more often and earlier. He stopped talking about making partner, and started talking about Daddy groups, and about preschools, and about foods that didn’t have growth hormones in them. Quinn didn’t worry about what he was getting up to, and she remembered, she remembered every day  the man that she married, the man that she made vows to, the man she fell in love with. 

(For months on end I’ve had my doubts)

“Daddy!” Luke called excitedly, urging his father forward. Kelly grinned like the happy family man that he was, and chased after his son, swooping down to grab him into his arms, and swing him around. Quinn never could get enough of her son’s laughter, liking the way it was coupled with Kellen’s deeper  one. 

“Again, again!”

They had been playing so rough that Luke’s  Sperry s  had been lost somewhere in the park, and his shirt tail was untucked from his shorts, and if Judy were to see him she would  have  demand ed t o know why her grandson looked so unkempt, but Quinn pushed Judy’s voice out of her ear because this was her family. The only reason that Quinn wasn’t joining in as vigorously was because she was pregnant with their second child. A year ahead of the plan .  Kelly wanted a girl, but silently Quinn was hoping for a boy because she didn’t know what she would do with a girl. She was glad Shelby was raising her daughter because she couldn’t help but think that she would do  irreparable  damage to any girl child unfortunate  enough  to be raised by  her. 

No, she enjoyed her four-year-old little hellion very much, thank you, and really soon she had another on the way. 

She saw Kelly reach into her pocket, give a glance at the screen of his phone. Quinn didn’t want to think anything of it, and so she didn’t. 

“Daddy!” Luke called. Kelly’s head snapped up, he smiled, looked over at Quinn and waved, and he went back to playing with his son.

Quinn’s own phone went off, and she fought the urge to smile when she saw Santana’s name on the screen. “Kelly?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Santana’s  here. Are you two going to be okay?” 

“We got this, don’t we champ.”

“Bye mommy!”

If Quinn was paying any attention, she would have noticed how her husband's followed her every step.

Quinn fed Santana directions on how to get to the park. Santana picked her up in her rental and drove and they drove to Home Depot together. Quinn could tell that there was something on Santana’s mind, that this trip wasn’t entirely random, but she didn’t want to ask because every time that look was on her friends’ face, it meant that life was going to change. It wasn’t until the two of them were contemplating paint colors that Santana opened her mouth, and said something more shocking then her wanting to be an astronomer.  And just like that first time, Quinn stared in disbelief. 

“You did what? "

"I looked up information about IVF."

" You’re not really thinking about doing that are you?”

Santana paused to consider two colors before her. 

“I didn’t say I was going to ,  I said I was thinking about it,” Santana answered. She held up a purple.

“I told you, I want a neutral color. We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet.”

“You’re going to pop that thing out in a matter of weeks,  how the hell do you not know what it is yet? ”

“We wanted to be surprised this time around.”

“There’s only two choices out there,” Santana  snarked . “Hardly a big surprise.”

“I’m just saying, I think it’s a bad idea.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion ,  Quinn, I was just bouncing the idea off of you.”

“But  why ?”

“I’m not getting any younger. And I’ve been thinking, I want a family .  I love Luke, and I love this new kid that you have coming out, and I love Bennett, Brittany’s wonderful ball of joy, and I love Tina’s kid, and Mercedes kid, and everybody in the universe’s kid, but I want one of my own.”

Quinn rubbed her belly. “You can have this one.”  Santana barked out a laugh.  “I just don’t get this, Santana. This isn’t you.”

“We are energy Quinn,” and boy, didn’t she know it? Santana never let her forget it. “We only manage to stay alive by spreading our energy. Sure, when I die my energy will join the great cosmos, but  I needs something a little bit more temporal, too.”

Who the hell was this woman?!

“Do you remember, a long time ago, when we used to talk about Kim Kardashian, and you said that you wanted to look just like her?”

“What’s your point?”

“You just used  ‘ cosmos ’  and  ‘ temporal ’  in a conversation about you having a baby, alone mind you, and we used to have conversations about how Suzy Pepper’s bangs were the worst thing on the planet. What happened to us, Santana?”

Santana’s brows knit together. “We’re growing up, Q.” She answered, using the old nickname either by accident or by design. “We used to eat mud pies. Should we go back to that , too ?”

Quinn turned to her pleadingly. “Let’s do something.”

Santana gave that smile. “Something like what?”

“I don’t know, anything. Something crazy. Let’s get matching tattoos - ,” 

“You’re pregnant.”

“Or  go  skydiving, or rafting, or let’s go key someone’s car. We’re still young, San. We’re still cool, we’re still…”

“You’re son is about to turn five, and you have another one coming just around the corner. It’s safe to say that that ship has sailed.”

“Okay, fine, that’s my excuse, what’s yours?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m  the  mom,  so  why’re you  the one  wearing  the  mom jeans?”

“What’s really going on?” Santana questioned. The question alone angered Quinn because there was a time in her life when Santana wouldn’t even have to ask, she would already know. 

“It’s no fun getting older,” was all Quinn could dredge up. 

“And that’s exactly why I’m thinking of having a baby,” Santana said. 

Images of Santana being with a swollen belly, her breasts enlarged,  and  with that glow? It was too  attractive a picture for  Quinn to  easily  forget about especially, selfishly, because Quinn no longer had a  20-year-old  body, and Santana unfairly  still  did . And because the idea of that image ranked somewhere up there on level with her son’s birth. A nd because Quinn d eserved to have someone else in that image with her, enjoying it, instead of having to go through it alone. 

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” Quinn mumbled. “What about love?”

Santana frowned , for once her gaze turned earthly . “I think that some people were just meant to go it alone,” she said in response. 

(Denying every tear)

Quinn heard the front door open and quietly shut, as if you could sneak into a house at 10 o’clock at night, and it not go noticed. 

“Are you just getting in?” Quinn questioned. 

Kelly started. “Geez, honey, you startled me.”

“Where have you been?” 

There wasn’t even a pause. “Partner meeting ran late. Big case, I’ve told you about it.”

Quinn shook the words  away. “That’s right. I forgot.  Luke missed you at dinner, and Kyle kept looking for you.”

“I’ll make it up to them as soon as this case is over with.”

“Are you hungry? I fixed you a plate.”

“No,  baby . I’m just tired. I’m going to take a shower and crash.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. 

They both headed to bed. “I’ll get up with Kyle. Is there milk in the fridge?”

She nodded. “Good.” He kissed her. “So don’t worry about getting up. I got it.”

Quinn went into their bedroom, and slipped beneath the covers, listening to the sound of the shower. She was still awake when he slid into the bed, his hair still wet from the shower. Quinn blamed her wet pillow on that. 

(I wish this would be over now)

Quinn thought the house was eerily quiet with just her in it. She had been working from home ever since Luke was born, but she’d taken time off when Kyle was, and now standing in the house, with Luke at school, and Kyle at the babysitter, she couldn’t help but feel how empty it was. A house shouldn’t feel this empty, should it? Even though hers was sizeable, even a house this size shouldn’t feel empty just because the people that occupied it weren’t in it, but it did. It felt empty, it didn’t feel livable, it didn’t feel like her home. 

The sobs over took her body, and she fell to the floor, holding on to herself, because she felt like if she didn’t hold on to herself, no one else would. She looked around, and hated everything. She hated the picture of her perfect family, Kelly on the left, she on the right, Kyle in her hands, and Luke on a  stool  in front of his parents, smiling through her missing teeth. She hated the furniture, she hated the TV, and the vases, and the coffee table, and everything. Did he really think that she didn’t know? She was a Yale graduate, for crying out loud. Did he think that he could come home smelling like a bar, and  perfume, and  she’d really think that he was tied up in meetings at work? 

How had they gotten here? To this point? She thought about Kelly on the train, their first meeting, she thought about it over, and over, and over again. Thought about it as she waited for him to come home, thought about it as she crawled into bed minutes before he walked into the door and pretended that she was asleep when he came into the room. Kelly, the adorable little redhead with the hemp bracelet who was perfect to bring home to the parents. He wanted a family, and she gave him that. He gave her the perfect home, and the perfect family, the fucking perfect life, and maybe he deserved a little bit of enjoyment too, but what the fuck did Quinn deserve then? 

If Kelly didn’t still love her, but stayed with her because he wanted the façade of this perfect life, then all she had to do is get rid of this perfect life ,  and that was the end of it. He’d be free. For a few minutes, a few dangerous minutes ,  she thought about succumbing to her demons. She drove to the local gas station. Got lighter fluid, vodka and matches. She went back to her house, dressed up in her wedding dress, surprise that it still fit. She thought about it. Thought about pouring the fluid on all of Kelly’s things, dragging them out to the backyard and setting them on fire. She could even push it into their pool if the flames got too high. Santana might even like the symmetry of it: what was a star other than a mass of  burning  gas?  What was a marriage but lies and a mass of burning objects?

The only thing that stopped her was her child ren . All three of them: Beth, Luke, and Kyle. And Santana. The thought of that smirk, as Santana visited her in jail; she couldn’t handle the smirk.  Nor of the thought of Santana raising her and Kelly’s kids without her. 

Quinn cried herself until she was exhausted, then cleaned herself up, and went to pick up her babies :  Luke from school, Kyle from daycare. Kyle, who was still only a few months old, threw the biggest fit  when he saw her  to let her know that he was displeased that she had removed herself, and her milk, from  his presence for the whole day, and that such behavior in the future would not be tolerated. 

Kelly came home early ,  flowers in his hand. He picked up his oldest, placed a kiss on top of the head of his baby, and kissed Quinn on the lips. “Dinner looks great,” he said.

He sat down and had conversation with Luke, with Quinn occasionally chiming in. He had that moment, Quinn saw it, when he looked around, at Quinn, and his boys, and he smiled as if he had everything in the world he ever wanted. He met Quinn’s eyes. “I love you,” he said across the table to her. 

“I love you, too,” she said regretfully. They had sex that night, and as she fell asleep with his arms, and his smell, wrapped up around her, for the first time ever, she thought about Judy and Russell, and wondered if they had first started out in love , too . 

(But I know, I still need you here)

Quinn checked the time. 9:45.  She wasn’t going to bother worrying when her wayward husband was going to come home, but she couldn’t sleep.  She felt the empty bed  and she imagined the presence that once showed no hesitation in being in it.  She  lay there and she  thought about the train, and she thought about the hotel, not the last time, but the first. She thought about the paths that you walk in life, thought , too,  about Santana and her parallel universes to go with her infinite galaxies. What if she had chosen a separate car? What if she hadn’t visited Santana that day, what if she had realized back when she was 19 years old that her wanting Santana hadn’t actually popped up out of nowhere, but that she never stopped that wanting ?

She dialed a number that she felt she had no right to dial. Her heart caught when Santana picked up the phone. They didn’t exchange pleasantries. They didn’t say anything. Quinn knew Santana was there, because she could hear her breath ing , but a minute passed, then f our more in secession . I t  was like Santana was extend ing  her arms for Quinn to fall into, even though it was just her presence, it was still enough. 

“Did you know that the Earth doesn’t really orbit the sun?” It was the oddest statement that Santana could have chosen to break the silence with, but no it wasn’t, not really. Was this not about who orbited what, and when? But Santana’s attempt to relate everything to the universe was lost this time. Any one older than five knew that the earth orbited the sun. 

“What?”

“ The Earth doesn’t actually orbit the sun,” Santana repeated. “ Everything in our  g alaxy, including the sun, orbits the center of mass of our solar system .” 

“Umm…okay.”

“Think about it, Quinn. We spend our whole lives thinking that one thing, the sun, is the  very  center of the universe,  the thing that we all move around,  when it’s not ;  it’s a mass. Think of how that would change your own personal philosophy when you find out that the thing that you thought you were revolving  around this whole time  isn’t truly what you a re revolving around after all.  That  the sun i sn’t what you were supposed to make the center of your life? Even the best of us can get confused.”

“Is this what you normally think about at this time of night?”

“ I was up w orking on my book,” she answered.  “I knew you’d call. Tonight.”

“Really? And how is that?”

“Because we’re shared energies.  When women have sex, they take in the cells of their lover. Did you know that? Women are forever connected to the people they take to bed. We’ve shared energies, so when your energy is off I know, because it’s mine too.” Quinn still hadn’t figured out how to deal with the more philosophical side of Santana, but she wondered if  that was her being r omantic. “ Sometimes , too,  the earth gets pulled in side of  another planet’s orbit,  because the gravitational force between the two bodies is so great that their path is altered for just a moment in time ,  and the Earth  temporarily  revolves  around  the planet, instead of the center of the universe. But eventually it finds its right path.”

Quinn doesn’t know what to say, so she says the first that comes to mind.  “I was awake, you know.”

It hurt her that Santana didn’t even have to  ask a bout wh at moment she was talking about, as if maybe she had been waiting this entire time for Quinn to admit that.  “I know, Quinn.” She could just imagine her winking. “I was, too.”

(You’ve been so unavailable)

“ Patel, Smith ,  Bristol  and Richardson, Kellen Richardson’s desk, how many I assist you?”

“Carmen?”

“Mrs. Richardson! How are you today?”

“Is Kelly there?”

“No ,  miss, he’s not. He is at lunch right now. Would you like to leave him a message?”

“No, thank you.”

Quinn hung up . Santana walked into the room and saw her with the phone in her hands. “What’s up?” she questioned. Santana’s eyes dropped to the baby in her arms because he gurgled, and she wanted to make sure he was  all right , even though she knew he was. Truth, she just liked looking at the kid. Quinn understood. Five months, now, and Quinn still couldn’t get over how adorable her youngest son was to her. He took more after her, with his blonde hair, but he had his father’s eyes. Quinn liked that because when they looked up at her, they looked at her the way that Kelly used to. 

“What’s wrong,  Quinnie ? ” 

“I was going to make good use that you’re here and a free babysitter ,  and was going to go see Kelly for lunch, but he’s out  at lunch .”

“It’s 2.”

“You heard of a lawyer’s lunch, right? They can go on for hours.”

“I’ll bet,” Santana said. She turned her gaze downwards to Quinn’s baby. “I’m going to st eal  you away, and raise you to be the first man in existence to know exactly how to treat a  wo man right.”

“Hey, don’t bring your man hating around my son!” Quinn teased. 

“I don’t hate men. I just really love women.” Her fingers fanned across his back. “Would you like a cousin, Kyle?” she questioned. “I don’t think mommy’s willing to have another baby.”

“You’re still thinking about that?”

“I’m still not a mom,” Santana answered. “So, yeah.”

“It’s no picnic raising a child by yourself.” Quinn thought about how little she had been seeing of Kelly. “Trust me.” Santana gave her that knowing look, but Quinn refused to acknowledge it. “We’re just in a rut right now,” Quinn said. “It happens, especially when babies come. We’re operating on a few hours of sleep, we haven’t been intimate. As soon as things get less…. this , we’ll be back to where we were.”

“If you say so.”

“So, are you really going to move back to New York, because I miss you. ” The summer was ending, Santana would be leaving soon. 

“I didn’t say I was moving back,” Santana corrected. She fell back on the bed so that she could balance Kyle on his chubby legs. “I was offered a fellowship. It’d be for two years. Give me time to work more on my books.”

Quinn fell down beside her.  “How’s that coming along?

“I found an agent.”

She rolled toward Santana.  “That’s great, San!”

Santana smiled. “It’s an agent, Q, not a publisher.”

“But it’s only a matter of time!” 

“Isn’t it always,” Santana posed, rhetorically. “I haven’t agreed, yet.”

“What’s holding you back? Yo ur friends are here, you’d be closer to your family,”  I’m here . 

Santana grimaced. “They’re no stars in New York.”

(Now  s adly I know why)

Quinn couldn’t help her eyes, swiveling around the room. She couldn’t help but to look at every girl that Kelly spent more than a few minutes talking to.  Was she the one ? She thought about losing every ounce of training she had and going up to one of them and demanding if they were the ‘bitch fucking her husband’, but she didn’t. Instead, she stopped passing waiters for glasses of champagne, feeling the bubbling trickle down her throat, and she smiled like she was the happiest woman  alive , married to the greatest man in the world, because wasn’t she? 

She felt a hand on  the small of  her back. Her smile remained fixed until Lewis, one of the junior partners, stepped into her lin e of sight. “How is the lovely Lucy  Richardson tonight?” he questioned. 

She gave a gracious smile. “I am wonderful, but it’s Kelly’s night.”

They both found Kelly in the crowd. “The man of the hour,” Lewis replied. He offered a hand to her.  He tilted his flute towards him before sitting it on a nearby table.  “ Since he’s not here to ask, c an I have this dance ? ”

“Of course.”

Quinn made her rounds, scoring a few songs with her husband.  It wasn’t really fair, because when he held her, he touched all of the right places, his hands were made for her curves, it seemed, and he smiled down at her as she were his world, his universe. If that were the case then how could he be so distant?  He loved her once, and now?  Where does love go when you don’t hold it for someone anymore? Did it just disappear up into the air, to join  into Santana’s  infinity?  If that was the case then the universe must be the most loving place  in existence, because it was filled with all of the love that the world had let go.

When Kelly was called up to the platform to accept his award, he found Quinn’s eyes in the crowd. He stared down at the little trinket, as if he couldn’t believe it, because Kelly was a humble, lovable guy. “This is an amazing honor, and I thank you so much for bestowing it upon me. All of my thanks goes to my lovely wife, Quinn, the mother of my children, and my best friend. Without your love and support, this wouldn’t even be possible.  And without it, it’s worthless.  So thank you, honey.”

Their  eyes held across the crowd. They smiled at each other like they did the day that Quinn said yes. 

(Your heart is unattainable)

Despite the time when they got back to their house, they heard voices. Instead of calling out a greeting, Quinn went tracking down the voices. A tent had  been set up in Luke’s room, a yellow glow emanating from beneath it. Quinn leaned in the doorway, listening to the voice of Santana as she read to her son. It took her a few minutes before she realized that she was reading to her from her  yet unpublished  book. Every now and then Santana’s voice was cut off by a question from Luke, which Santana answered patiently. 

After she was done reading, Quinn cleared her throat. “What’s going on here?”  she  questioned lightly. 

Santana crawled out from beneath the tent, giving a semi-embarrassed smile. “Luke woke up, so I decided to read with him. How was your night?”

Kelly appeared behind her. She wondered what he was doing, and why he was just suddenly making an appearance. 

“Hello, Santana.”

Luke crawled out from beneath the tent ,  too, smile on his face. “Daddy! Momma!”

Kelly swung Luke up into his hands. “What are you doing up, young man?”

“I had a bad dream, and Aunt  Tana  was reading to me!’

“You had a bad dream?” Kelly demanded. “Why didn’t you just tell the monsters that you’re a Richardson and you can kick their ass!” 

“Kelly,” Quinn mock scolded. It was surprising coming from Kelly, but she wouldn’t have been surprised in the least that Santana hadn’t said the same, and judging by the look on her face, maybe she had told him something similar. 

Kelly turned his face to Santana. “Thank you for babysitting.”

Santana smirked. “Anytime. I guess I’ll leave you to your night.”

Kelly stopped her.  “Hey, Quinn says that you’re moving to New York.”

“Undecided,” Santana responded, glancing at Quinn once before looking away.

“I hope you will,” Kelly said. “Luke and Kyle could use a full time aunt.”

Santana walked over and placed a kiss on Kelly’s cheek. “I’m always a full time aunt. They can call me, or come visit any time they want. Good night Quinn, goodnight  Kelly.”

Quinn walked her to the door. “I really would like it if you decided to stay,” Quinn said, before she said goodbye. 

Santana frowned. “I didn’t want to say it in front of Kelly, but I don’t think I will.”

“Santana-,”

Santana cut her off. “I’m beat, Q. We can talk about it tomorrow. That should give you some time to come up with a Power Point presentation for why I should stay.”

Santana leaned towards her, and for one panicked moment Quinn thought she was going to kiss her on her lips, but she kissed her on her forehead. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

(Even though, Lord knows you’ve kept mine)

Kelly emerged from Luke’s room as Quinn was making her way past. “Is he sleep,” Quinn whispered.

Kelly smiled. “Down for the count.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Quinn’s ear. “You were wonderful tonight, baby.”

He leaned in to kiss her. Quinn wanted to push him away, she never wanted him to touch her again, but she yearned so much for his touch. She melted underneath his hand. 

“No, you were great,” Quinn said. “I am  so  proud of you.”

He smiled that smile, and Quinn stared back at him, hurting so much, but wanting him so much. When you’re young, you have this thought for how you think that life is going to turn out for you. You don’t think, not as a kid, or a young adult, that life isn’t going to turn out the way you plan. Quinn’s life, it was what she was supposed to want; it was all a part of the plan. She didn’t think to ask for a life with love in it, because she didn’t expect to have it. But then she fell in love, and fell hard, and so she wanted it, and for a moment, she thought she had it, with this man in front of her. She was so in love with this man that she didn’t know what to do with it, because she could feel his distance in his touch. It cut her up inside every time he kissed her. 

Her hand extended on his chest. “I love you.” It was a plead and a declaration in one, and love, love sh ouldn’t be like that, should it? “Do you love me, Kellen?”  It hurt  her heart  that she  was desperate enough to ask.

“Of course I do, Quinn,” he said. “I love you as much now, as I did when we got married.”

He sealed his words with a kiss. A deeper one than the first. She completely melted beneath it because she wanted to believe it, and so she did. He started to undress her, in the doorway of Luke’s room, and for a second she was going to allow it, to allow him to fuck her against the wall like some sordid tryst in the bathroom of a bar, but then Quinn realized that Kellen had most likely done that, so she paused his advances to take his hand, and led him to the bedroom, because she was his wife, and if he wanted to have sex with her, she needed it to be with her. And not one of his hook-ups.

(I have loved you for many years)

Kyle was occupied with his bouncer, and Quinn was cleaning, and stumbled  across her and Kelly’s old albums. There were more pictures from her and Santana th a n of her and Kelly, and she wondered  f or a minute if that was telling, but then she remembered that camera phones were less prominent, and people actually printed out their pictures more than letting them sit on their computer until they were accidentally deleted o ff  the hard drive crash. 

She could see how their friendship had developed. Freshman year, almost every single picture of them had Brittany in it. Their smiles were big, and they just seemed excited, surprised by their popularity as freshman , by their friendship .  She caught a photo or two where they were supposed to be looking straight ahead, and instead one of them was momentarily caught looking at the other. Two different worlds and yet they had been friends, and they were so h appy  to have  each other. She could tell  t he moment when she got pregnant, because then Santana disappeared from her private life, only to be seen together in group pictures. Quinn stared at the picture of her and Santana at senior prom, wondering first who had snapped the picture, and  then  how she had never seen it. It took her a moment to recall the song, “Take my breath away?” Why had no one told her? You would have thought that someone, at least the person who had snapped the picture  at least,  would have come up to her  after it was printed,  and tell her about the way Santana had stared at her then. She remembered looking over at Santana as she propped her up, she remembered Santana winking, and she remembered looking back, but she didn’t realize how that moment looked to an outsider because if she didn’t know better, she would have thought that the two of them were in love.

Then  came  graduation, and they were back to standing beside each other in photos. There was a year gap when Brittany dragged Santana to Lesbos, and pictures oddly with Rachel and Kurt and Mercedes and Tina and Brittany, but still her and Santana.  Then there came the pictures of Kelly. Of their progression. She remembered how they both sought to never lie to the other. How Kelly admitted that he, like Quinn, felt like a stranger in his skin sometimes. How sometimes he wished that he was someone else, but he wasn’t quite sure. How he wore his hemp bracelet as an act of defiance, a reminder to be a little bit adventurous and unexpected. 

Then came marriage, and kids, and it wasn’t as easy to see the catalyst that changed them from Kelly and Quinn to Kelly and Quinn, as it was to see what had separated her and Santana. Kelly had begged for a family, and then when he had it, he discovered he wasn’t a family man? Was that it? 

  
(Maybe I am just not enough)

Quinn felt her heart explode at the sight of Santana seriously dressed down, and standing on her front stoop. She wasn’t sure where this surge of emotion came from, but it was there, and she found herself propelled forward. Lucky for her, Santana threw her arms to catch her, just like when she stood up that day at the Prom, and there was a part of her that knew that Santana would always catch her, no matter what. 

“Umm…hi,” Santana said, smile on her face, even if Quinn couldn’t see it because her face was currently resting on Santana’s shoulder. “What’d I do to get this greeting?”

Quinn opened her mouth to answer, but instead of words, a squeak escaped first, then a sob, and before she knew it she was crying on Santana’s shoulder as badly as her baby, and she didn’t know why. 

“Oh,” Santana said, holding her more tightly, more securely. “You’re going to be okay. It’s okay, baby.”

Santana gently coaxed them off of the front stoop and inside the house. She knew how Quinn felt about making scenes. Quinn knew she must have seen the photos, because she steered her away from the living room, and into the kitchen. Quinn cried harder, because she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from Santana’s shoulder; she didn’t want her to see how big of a mess she was. She wondered if deep down Santana felt justified. That this is what Quinn deserved,  because she hadn’t chosen her. 

(You've made me realize my deepest fears)

“You don’t have to talk,” Santana whispered. “But if you want to, I’m here.”

“What, what are you doing here?” Quinn questioned. She pulled back, looked Santana over. 

Santana gave an uneasy smile. “Summer’s over. I…I’m not going to take the fellowship. There’s a girl, a woman really, who I’ve…it’s not much,  just a little flirting and a spark, but the universe, it began w ith a spark didn’t it?”

Quinn choked back a sob.  Why does everyone always leave me?  S he wondered.  Why am I never enough to make them stay?

“What happened with you and Josie? You never said.”

Another grimace. “ Did you know that there are more stars in the sky then there are grains of sand on the beach."

"What does that even mean?"

Santana shrugged.  " You get sand in your heels when you get married on the beach, Quinn.”

“And this other woman? Does she not where heels?”

“She doesn’t even wear shoes.”

(By lying and tearing us up)

She lied to Kelly. She lied about where she was going, she lied about how long she was going to be gone, she lied about who she was going out with, and for no other reason than because she wanted him to know what it felt like to be lied to. She dressed up to the nines. She dressed up like she wasn’t a wife and mother of two. She dressed up like she wanted to be undressed in a club bathroom. “Damn, Quinn,” Santana mumbled. 

Quinn smiled because that’s what she was going for. 

"Dance with me, Santana?"

Santana shook her head. "I'm not dancing with you."

"Why not?" Quinn demanded. "Don't you want to?"

"That's besides the point. I'm not dancing with you, because I know that look Quinn  Fabray  Richardson. That's the look that got you Beth, and that inanely tried to take Shelby down, and had you thinking for some godforsaken reason that it was a good idea to try to get Finn back. I know somethings bothering me, and if you ant to talk to me about it, we can talk, but I will not be the other side of that look."

They stared hard at each other. "I'm sorry," Quinn mumbled after awhile. 

"You don't have to apologize, just stay sane, please."

(You say  I’m crazy)

Santana dropped her off at the house, watching her up the steps until she went inside. Kelly was waiting up. He  looked her over when she came into the house. "You were out with Santana?" he questioned. 

Quinn popped her 'p' the way Santana would have when they were younger. "Yep."

She could see many emotions playing behind Kelly's eyes. She wanted to jeer at him,  are you jealous? 

"Did you have a good time?" She could see that beneath his calm exterior, he was fuming. Good. She wanted him to feel that way. 

She lay her palm against the side of her face. "A blast. How were the boys?"

A strained smile. "The best."

When Kelly failed to jump at the bait, Quinn sighed feeling all of her energy falling off of her shoulders, and she just sagged. "I'm going to take a shower."

She took her time, washing off the scent of Santana, and the bar, and her disappointments. She washed off the knowledge that she was so much like her mother:  she had brought two perfect children into the world, and had a life that was on paper very nice and proper, but the reality was just like Judy and Russell, pretty couple, no substance. Was this really better than what she would have had with Santana, and why did Santana always seem like her back up, and not her first choice? Or had she always been her first choice, and Quinn had just been too blind to see it? She had a thought  too lingering to be passing. She and Santana could have carried on their affair, she got vibes from Santana all the time that maybe, just maybe, she was in love with Quinn,  still  in love if that picture had been any indication. But she had never acted on it, and she was starting  to wonder if it was because even deep down in her lonely heart she realized that Santana was her orbit, and she deserved everything; not just a stolen fuck. 

When she  got out of the shower, Kelly was sitting on the edge of their bed, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.  “Kelly?”

Kellen  looked up.  “Yes?”

“Do you think that we should see a counselor?”

Kelly paused, his gaze to the ground, his shoulders a sharp line.  “For what, honey?”

“For us. So whatever this is that is happening between us can be fixed before it gets destroyed beyond repair?”

Kelly gave her a kiss . “Quinn, whatever you’re thinking, it’s all in your head. There’s no one in the picture but us. Just me and you and our family. ”

(Cause you don’t  think I know w hat you’ve done)

Another early morning. Quinn was up with Kyle and had him fed by the time she was opening up Luke's door, singing him awake with the song from  The  Notekins : "The sun is shining, g ood morning, good morning. And we're all smiling, good morning, good morning. To everyone, hooray, hooray, have a good day!"

Luke smiled at the sight of his mom. 

"Morning mommy!"

His toothy smile was passed on to Kyle. "Morning,  Ky !"

"Let's get you dressed, shall we?" 

Luke stretched beneath the covers before he slipped from beneath them.

Kelly came downstairs just as Luke was finishing up eating. Kelly came into the kitchen, fully dressed, brief case in his hand. He ruffled up Kyle's hair, kissing Luke on the top of his head. He moved to do the same to Quinn.

"I made you breakfast, by the way."

Kelly looked as if he had just planned on dashing. "Okay, I'm in a bit of a rush, but-,"

"Okay, yeah, that's fine. Give me a kiss?"

She had to draw him to her to kiss him. He paused for a moment. "Hey  Lukey , want to ride to school with daddy?"

"Yeah!" Luke said, jumping up from his seat. 

Quinn watched the two of them leave, started to gather the dishes up, but then she paused. Not bothering to dress Kyle in anything other than the onesie he was wearing, she bundled him up, and got in her car.  She  took the short cut that Kelly didn't know about because she was usually the one who took Luke to school, and ended up beating him there.

When she saw his car, sense kind of returned to her.  "What the hell am I doing?"  She almost turned around. She watched Luke bound from the car, happy and carefree, and she smiled at the sight, especially when she saw Kelly wave, and Luke turn to give a wave goodbye as well. She wasn't going to follow him, but then she noticed that Kelly didn't take the turn that would take him to work, but one that would take him in a different direction completely. 

She followed him.

She panicked when she thought he noticed, so she pulled over to the side of the road.  But when enough space passed, she got back in the lane, making sure to keep his car in sight. He didn't drive long. He pulled into the parking lot of what was unmistakably a bar, only one other car in sight, it's occupant outside of the red sports  car, standing beside it. She watched them embrace, but when her  hand rose  to brush hair off of her forehead, she couldn't bear  to see anymore. 

It was one thing to suspect, but to now have proof. It was devastating.  

(But when you call me baby)

Quinn watched them go inside and not come out. She almost lost it, but Kyle's movement caught her eye, and she looked at the baby sitting in the car. Tiredly she drove back home, calling her neighbor to watch him for a few hours, because she fully intended to break down. 

And she did. She cried until her mascara ran down her face. She cried, and dug her finger nails into the carpet to keep her from pulling out her hair. She cried until her eyes were rimmed red.  She  cried until her anger took over, and then it disappeared, and she cried that special cry you have after anger burns through you, hot and white, and then she called Santana. 

"Hey, I was just coming over," Santana said. "What's up?"

"I need you, San. I need you right now."

There was that pause. "Okay. I'm leaving the hotel now. What happened? What's going on with you and Kelly."

"Please, just hurry."

"Okay, I'm coming ."

"Can you," she  hiccupped . "Can you pick up Luke, please."

"Sure, baby. Anything else you need?"

"Just you."

"I'm on my way."

She almost screamed into the phone 'no', because that's the text that had almost killed her, but Santana had already hung up the phone, so all she could do was  hope that the irony gods were otherwise occupied today. 

(I know I’m not the only one)

She had barely hung up  when the front door opened, and she smiled, thinking that illogically it was Santana already. At the click of the heel, she knew it wasn't. 

“Kelly?”

Kelly smiled when he saw Quinn. “Hey,  honey! "

"You're drunk," Quinn accused. 

"Yes, I am," he admitted, freely. 

Quinn decided there was no point in beating around the bush. " I saw her."

Kelly froze, and he sighed, his whole body sagging. "Of course you did."

Kelly turned abruptly, going upstairs. Quinn followed behind him.  "Do you have anything to say?"

"What do you want me to say, baby ?" he demanded. "It's okay? That we'll get through this? Do you want to get through this?"

"You're incredible," Quinn snorted.

"I'm  incredible?" Kelly demanded.    Kelly looked like he was heading for their walk-in, but he stopped, paused, glared at Quinn.  "You tell me that you just slept with Santana, again, and I'm  incredible ."

"What the hell does Santana have to do with this?"

"Everything," Kellen shouted, throwing his hands up. "She has everything to do with this, she has always had everything to do with this!"

" You're  the one who cheated."

"Are you fucking kidding me, right now?"

"Did you think I didn't notice the phone calls, the times out late, the way you have pulled back away from me? "

"I don't pull away from you , Quinn! Ever! You are the force that I will forever be drawn to."

"Then what do you call it?"

"Self-preservation!  I have actually  been busy at work, and yes, I have been avoiding being home  because do you have any idea what it feels like to see  that  smile on your wife's face, and know that you're not the one that put it there?  Do you know what it feels like  to fall in love with someone who is in love with someone else? To wonder if....every time you touch her, if she's imagining another lover's touch. I did cheat, with  Yuliya , yes. That one time. B ecause I wanted to feel desired. I wanted to feel wanted.  I wanted to feel like a  man. I  thought it would make me feel better  to let you know what it felt like to be cheated on, to be absent, to be withholding, but it doesn't make me feel any better, it just made me sad. You want to know what it feels like Quinn: it  fucking feels like you ripped out my heart and stomped all over it. And you don't even care, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"No! You're not going to tell me that it's all in my head; you don't get to say that you think I'm crazy, because you don't think I know what you've done .  You don't get to do that Quinn. It's not in my head, I'm not imagining things. You love Kyle, and you love Luke, and maybe you love me, but not as much as you love Santana.  I have loved you for so many years, and  maybe I'm just not enough . Y ou have made me realize my deepest fears. You didn't have to lie, you could have said from the start that you didn't love me."

"I do love you!"

"But I know that I'm not the only one who has your love. I don't even get to have it  best . " Quinn couldn't look at him. " You love her, and if you think I'm cheating it's because  you made your mind believe that it was me  all this time, so you wouldn't feel bad when you finally gave her your heart." Kelly's eyes flitted around the room as if he couldn't find anything to land on. 

"Who was that woman that you were w ith earlier if you're not cheating on me ?"

 "Loma? She's a former alcoholic who owns the bar and opens it in the morning for me sometimes when I start to feel this desperation  so I don't ever drink alone. If it wasn't for her, I would be drunk way more often. I tried to be everything that you wanted. If you had a picture of perfect, that's what I tried to be. And it never mattered because my perfection was never what you wanted. W hat you wanted was her. I was just, I don't know what the hell I was to you? A distraction? A placeholder?"

Kelly was actually crying now, tears rushing down his face. "Whatever it was, no one would say that I didn't try, but your heart is so unobtainable, but you have my Quinn. God, the lord knows y ou have mine. " H e looked at her so earnestly. 

"Kellen- "

There was a sound, movement downstairs. "Quinn?" A concerned voice questioned. 

Kelly's eyes flickered. For one second he looked murderous, but then he just folded into himself.

"That's Santana."

"Of course it is," Kelly spat. He grabbed his suit jacket from beside him on the bed. "Do you remember when we first met?"

Quinn nodded. Of course."I told you  you  wouldn't like the ending, but I guess I was wrong. I'm the one who ended up on the platform alone.  I'm going out. Call me when it's over."

Quinn wondered if he and Santana passed each other on the way out the door. Kelly slammed it hard, loud enough for her to hear, loud enough for the neighbors. 

"Quinn?" Santana's voice was more anxious than at her first call.  She appeared in the doorway. "What happened? Did he touch you?" Santana demanded, furious. 

Quinn shook her head, rapidly. "No, we had a fight. Verbal," she elaborated. "That's it. Where's Luke?"

"I took him over to your neighbors. I thought you might need some time. What happened?"

(I’m not the only one)

Quinn cried at the sight of Santana, her knees so weak that they gave up on her, and she sank to the ground. Like she knew she would, Santana surged forward, collecting Quinn in her arms. Quinn looked up pathetically, she felt, at Santana, tears pooled in her eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

It had just hit her. What Kellen said, but what she had been denying.  You  are the orbit that my life revolves  around. You are the dawn and the dusk, you are every thing I remember, and nothing I want to forget. You are the center of my universe, and I feel it every time I'm around you, and I know, I know, I know, I know I'm not the only one. 


	3. Leave your Lover

_(I don't have much to give)_

                Santana lay on her side with her arm resting on the bed. Her ear rested against her arm, hair sprawled out around her, body turned towards her bed mate. She watched with semi-amusement as Quinn blinked one very long blink before opening her eyes, but not without great effort. The alcohol, late hour, and physical activities that had just taken place in this bed were taking their toll on the blonde; keeping her eyes open was an obvious struggle. “Go to sleep, Quinn,” she purred.

                But Quinn was stubborn. “I don’t wanna,” she said, petulantly, the way a child might.

                The chuckle that Santana was holding in did come out then, along with an eye roll. “No?” Quinn shook her head, ruffling up her already completely hopeless hair. Santana’s eyes searched hers. “Why not?”

                Quinn’s hand, her right, reached for her, possibly trying to drag her closer, but in the absence of any clothes, she was unable to get a hold, so instead her hand rested on Santana’s boob. The hand didn’t do anything, just rested there. “Not done.” 

                “With?”

                “You.” Santana snickered because Quinn had meant it to be sexy, but was too tired to pull it off.

                “Go to sleep, Quinn.”

                It was a longer blink this time. Santana counted it in her head. 1…2….3…4…5…6…7…8…9…At 10, Quinn’s eyes struggled open valiantly, her hand twitching feebly against Santana’s boob. Santana’s own hand inched over the sheets to capture Quinn’s hand in her own. She placed her other hand alongside Quinn’s cheek, and was surprised when Quinn turned into the embrace. “No.” Her ‘no’ was weaker than the first one.

                Santana schooched even closer to her on the bed. “Sleep, Quinn,” she said, softer still, turning it into a lullaby. Santana closed her eyes, and mimicking, Quinn’s closed too. Santana counted in her head to 10, then opened her eyes. Quinn’s eyes blinked lazily open, flashing a flash of gold before Santana closed her eyes again. “Sleep,” she murmured, eyes still closed. She counted to thirty, before she opened her eyes again. She waited, but Quinn’s eyes didn’t open.

                When Santana was sure that Quinn’s eyes weren’t going to open again, she took the time to examine the face of the young woman in the bed with her. Quinn looked a mess: hair wild and unruly, make up smudged, face squashed against the pillow. Santana thought she was beautiful. Part of her itched to be the big spoon, to pull Quinn into her arms and hold her through the night. It had been months since she was this close to another human being, since she had been intimate with another woman, and Santana ached for that closeness, that unbreakable connection.

                But the other part of her looked at the blonde locks that were spread out over the bed, locks that weren’t the right color, weren’t the right length, didn’t belong to the right face, and that thought kept her in place.

                _What have I done_?

                She felt her stomach lurch as her mind finally let her settle on the person she was currently sharing a bed with. _Quinn._ She had been trying not to think about it all night, not since the first hint that this was probably where things were going to end up, but now she had nothing but time to think about it. The emotions that she had been trying to push back finally came welling up to the surface as she struggled to figure out which one she was feeling the most strongly: a vague feeling of pride, possibly triumph, bitterness, and possible loss.

                Quinn had sought her out, Quinn had flirted, Quinn had made the suggestion, she, Santana, had just gone along the whole way, but just going along had never been a good enough excuse; it wasn’t in this moment either. Santana had been trying, trying to establish an actual relationship with Quinn, had been trying to right the wrongs of their shared pasts together, was trying to use the opportunity that now that they were both adults, and away from the world that had pushed them so up against each other, to actually develop a friendship here, and in one night she had fucked it all up. It didn’t matter if Quinn had initiated everything, she was certain that this little fling had probably cost her her friendship with the girl who had never quite managed to be a friend. And the sex hadn’t even been good.

                Santana was proving over and over again, that she was a royal fuck up.

                Her eyes moved to the heap of clothes that were thrown haphazardly around the room, silent evidence of what had taken place. _Shit._ Her eyes stopped on the object that could just be made out beneath the sheer fabric of her discarded bra. She had silenced the phone early in the afternoon, and in order to be sure that she would at least feel if someone tried to call or text her at some point throughout the night, she had turned her phone on vibrate. She used the handy trick of stuffing her cell in her bra to keep it close to her (despite how many times her father warned her that that could give her breast cancer). When her bra had been peeled off, the phone had likely dropped with it.

                Even from her spot on the bed she could see that little green light flashing, alerting her to the fact that she had unread messages.

                Being very careful not to disturb her temporary lover, she slid off the bed and stalked toward the phone that she’d avoided all day. Quickly snatching it up, she stalked into the bathroom to relieve herself. Seeing the hotel robe hanging on the back of the wall, she grabbed it, sliding the phone into one of its convenient pockets. Back in the room, she fished around in Quinn’s purse uncovering a flask. She slid the item into the robe’s pocket before grabbing the items that she had gone searching for in the first place.

                Being careful not to make a sound, she slid the balcony door open, and slipped outside.

                “Fucking Fabray,” Santana murmured, as she briefly took in the view from the balcony. Of course Quinn would splurge for a hotel room with a balcony. In that moment, though, she couldn’t hate her. She was glad for the wall that was tall enough to keep out any prying eyes from seeing her half-dressed body, but also allowed her to be able to look out and over the deserted courtyard, where the hotel pool was illuminated in an eerie green light.

                Santana ignored the cold as best she could as she perched on one of the chairs out there. She set Quinn’s cigarette carton on the table, lining up the lighter, her phone, and the flask beside it, as if they were little toy soldiers there to guard her from her own bad decisions. The flask, silver, glinted in the moon light, the slight slosh she heard when she sat it down telling her that there was still plenty of liquid inside. She planned on quickly correcting that error, but for the moment her hands reached for the red cigarette carton. She fished out one of the sticks, tapping the butt against the side of the cartoon before sliding the fag between her lips. Cross-eyed she watched the flame come in contact with the cigarette paper, burning away the edges. She inhaled deeply as the butt glowed red, and watched as the smoke from her cigarette floated up into the air.

                Balancing her phone on one corner, she placed a finger on the opposite edge and spun it around, catching the glow of the cigarette every 180° rotation. If she squinted hard enough she could barely make out her reflection, her eyes looking hollow, empty, against the high gloss of her phone. 

                She pushed the cigarette to the other side of her mouth and took a swig from the flask. _Vodka_? She shuddered as the liquid burned its way down, threatening to come back up. As the alcohol coursed through her body, she tilted her head back, to look up at the stars.

                “Come Josephine, in my flying machine, and it’s up she goes, up she goes.” Her voice, shaky and raw, was quickly swallowed by the night, perhaps floating away to join the stars.

                Santana smiled as she took another pull of the cigarette, imagining Rachel’s outrage if she knew that Santana was out here smoking, and in the cold no less. Even though they were no longer in Glee together, she imagined that the girl would be upset that Santana was ‘indulging in unnecessary risqué behavior that would ultimately do irreparable damage to her vocal chords and simultaneously shorten her life’ or some shit like that. Santana was sure that Rachel was doing her own damaging of the vocal chords tonight somewhere in a room below them, if the looks she and Finn had been giving each other meant anything. She wondered if deep throating would be considered damaging the throat muscles…after all, the girl did lack a gag reflex. Santana wondered if she ever put it to use.

                The sound of laughter rose up to greet her, and Santana leaned forward slightly to look over the balcony. Too far away to see distinguishing characteristics, there was a young couple near the pool having a far better time than she was at the moment. Santana wondered if they had had to jump the fence to get there, or if the gate had merely been left open by an inattentive hotel staff member. Or maybe no one bothered to lock it because the staff didn’t think anyone was dumb enough to go swimming in near freezing weather.

                Santana wondered if the couple would prove them wrong. She waited for a splash, but it didn’t come. Looks like the lovers weren’t _that_ stupid, either.

                Santana shook her head and swallowed more alcohol. If Rachel and Finn _had_ gotten busy, no doubt she’d be hearing _all_ about it when they got back to New York. Moving in with Rachel Goddamn Berry hadn’t been her most well thought out decision, but Santana had been lost, adrift, desperate. After her and Brittany’s break up, and Brittany moving on with Sam, she needed to do something desperate to keep away the feelings. She needed something new, and somewhere, anywhere to go, and she knew Rachel wouldn’t say no…

                _What are you doing with your life_? Santana’s inner voice sounded a lot like her mom. She glanced back up at the sky, before looking into the room she had just walked out of. Finally losing her resolve, she pushed the button on the side of the phone, causing the screen to light up in an angry blue glow. She paused, as she always did, at the background picture of her and Brittany at Breadstix. It hurt every time she saw it, but she was too lazy to change it, or maybe she just wasn’t ready to admit that it really was over between them. Seeing the girl obviously in love with Sam tonight should have cemented that fact for her, though. Wasn’t that why she had ended up in the bed with Quinn?

                She thumbed in her passcode. She had two missed calls, and several text messages but her eyes stayed locked on the name that the most messages had come from: Brittany S. Pierce. They had come with lessening frequency throughout the night: _Can’t wait to see you! Are you here? Where are you? Sam and I just got here. You look hottt in that dress._ And later, _Are you avoiding me_? _Why didn’t you at least say ‘hi’_?’

                Santana clicked the screen off, ignoring the texts like she had all night. _Fuck you, Brittany_ , she screamed silently inside her head. Tears pressed against her eyelids, but they didn’t fall. She tilted the flask to her lips and finished drinking the contents, grimacing at the burn and thinking w _ho the hell keeps a flask of Vodka in their purse?_  

                Santana was out here with the cold and the stars, and Brittany was probably still at it with Sam. Brittany could go at it all night; Santana knew that first hand. She tried to convince herself that it was just stamina and creativity that she missed, but it wasn’t working because she missed Brittany so bad, and it didn’t seem like the opposite was true on Brittany’s end. Britany had Sam, and Quinn was fucking taking up real estate on the queen-sized bed that she and Santana had just had unremarkable sex in.

                _Up she goes._

                Santana finished her cigarette, taking great delight in squashing the stick into the bottom of the ashtray. She stood up, suddenly very tired. Her mom would kill her if she came in through the front door this late, but in her high school years she had become somewhat of an expert sneaking in and out of the house, so. She went back into the room, leaving the box and lighter out on the balcony. Quinn needed to break herself of that habit anyway. 

                She didn’t realize how cold it had been outside until she was back in the warmth of the building. She searched out her clothes from the floor in the light of the moon. She’d found her underwear, and was working on getting her shaking legs through the hole when Quinn stirred on the bed.

                “Santana?” she said groggily.

                Santana froze, feeling caught. She took a minute to make sure that her voice was steady before she questioned, “Yeah?”

                A pale, lazy hand lifted off of the bed, pointed generally in the direction where Santana stood. “Stay with me,” Quinn murmured. Santana hovered, not sure what to do with that. Quinn, not even half way awake, pouted her lips. She sounded so young, so vulnerable. “Please.”

                Santana felt herself physically jerk slightly at the request, and she stared at Quinn who was apparently very much asleep. Santana felt her heartbeat beating out an erratic rhythm. 

                “Okay, Quinn,” she whispered. Her underwear slid off as she crawled back into the bed. Quinn may be a bitch, but they had shared too much history for Santana to just leave her to wake up the next morning alone. She slid as close to her bed mate as it was possible to get without touching, luxuriating in the heat radiating off of the body next to her. Quinn shivered at the coolness of Santana’s skin, before she moved over to share her heat.

                In the morning, Santana woke to Quinn’s movements on the bed. The taste of cigarettes, vodka, and Chapstick were strong on her breath, and a pounding headache was raging against her skull. She needed a moment to gather herself together, to piece together everything, but then the headache came in full force, pain pressing against her skull, and then she remembered: vodka and Fabray, precisely in that order. Santana needed to alleviate the pain in her head before she could do anything else, but then she really remembered: Quinn. Who was apparently in freak out mode. About the events of the night before. So much for waking up in a post coital bliss.

                “Tell me we didn’t…?”

                Through the hangover haze, Santana took in Quinn’s flushed face. The panic in her eyes was priceless.

                 “Oh we definitely did! Gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

                The look on her face was almost worth it, until she could see Quinn’s mind working, trying to shift blame. It brought back, in clear detail, her after with Finn. It was blatantly clear how Quinn was practically begging her to erase what had happened the night before. It would have been so easy to give the girl the reassurance that she was looking for, but Santana was tired of people trying to erase her. Quinn had instigated the whole thing, and Quinn was going to deal with whatever that meant to Quinn’s mind. The whole thing was suddenly too much for her, and all she wanted to do was get away from the situation. She wanted to get away from it all, from Quinn, from Lima, from Glee.

                Santana quickly dressed, using a half-truth to explain her hasty exit, but she couldn’t leave without doing one last thing. She placed a kiss on Quinn’s lips, to remind her that things had been real, if only for a night.

                Her car was waiting for her where she left it, and her house was already stirring when she parked the car outside of her home.

                “Santana is that you?” her mother called at the sound of the opening door.

                The familiar smells, the familiar surroundings that let her know that she was home, stabbed at her heart. She couldn’t face her mom, she didn’t think she could handle it, so she said nothing and went up to her room. It’d been months since she’d been here so she’d forgotten that her room was decorated with pictures of Brittany and Quinn. She fell onto her bed, and the tears that she had been restraining finally took over. 

                “Mija?”

                Santana hadn’t heard the door open, but she turned her face to the door to look at her mother who surged forward into the room to sit beside her on the bed. “Baby, what happened?”

                Santana felt like she would pop out of her skin. “It just hurts so bad,” she sobbed, hiding most of her face with her hair.

                “What?”

                “Brittany was at the wedding,” she explained, and she could tell her mother understood. “How can she be so _happy_ with him?” she didn’t even try to stem the tears that were flowing with abandon. She was proud that she’d managed to keep it together until now, but that strength had abandoned her, and she couldn’t stop crying if she wanted to.  “She was going to _marry_ him. She _thought_ she married him.”

                A gentle hand rubbed up and down her back, but the voice that answered was practical. “Mija, you were the one to break up with her.”

                Santana nodded, causing more tears to fall. “But I didn’t think that it was going to hurt so bad! I did it because I didn’t want to hurt _her_ , because-,”

                “Because it wasn’t working with you two,” Maribel said softly. “Remember how much it was hurting both of you to stay together?”

                “But it hurts _so much_ being apart. if we’re not supposed to be together, why does this hurt so _bad_?”

                Maribel pulled her daughter closer to her. “Because you’re not emotionless, mija. You’re not a robot. You love, and you loved her. She was your first, but she’s just one of the many loves that you’ll have, my baby. I know it’s hard now, and it hurts, but she’s not going to be the only person in your life. She won’t be the only person to love you.”

                She really wanted to correct her mother about that fact. She loved her mother, but in this she was wrong. Brittany probably was the only one who would ever love her, who could ever put up with her. And what’s more, Brittany was probably the only person that _she_ could ever love. She was her best friend, and Santana had used her friend to explore her sexual proclivities, pushing aside any feelings until Brittany had made them go down that road, and it was through sheer insistence that Brittany had managed to get Santana to fall in love. Santana didn’t believe that anyone else was likely to manage.

                “Or to break your heart,” Maribel went on. “Without meaning to, you’ll probably do the same. That’s life, mija. It’s not always easy, but you have to be open to the living or else you’re going to miss out.”

                Santana tried to push herself closer to her mom.

                “I just want this to be over already. It was torture trying to get through the wedding, and Quinn-,”

                Her mouth snapped shut because Quinn was another complication that she didn’t want to think about at the moment.

                “Quinn, what, mija?” her mother questioned kindly. It wasn’t that Santana was surprised that Quinn had been only too eager to have sex with a girl; there had been one too many lingering looks towards Rachel and towards others, and there was Mack, but even if she was the obvious choice, she was surprised that Quinn had gone there _with her._  Santana hadn’t even begun to work that out because Quinn didn’t do casual. Santana had been vulnerable and nursing a broken heart. Quinn was drunk, and Beth was proof enough that drinking and attraction went hand in hand for the girl, but Quinn was Quinn, and Santana was Santana. There were lines that you didn’t cross.

                Santana had gone along with it because she had been mildly curious to see how far Quinn would take things, and because Quinn hadn’t looked at her predatorily, there had been something entirely different to her look, but then she had dismissed her as easily as Finn did with his, “it didn’t feel like anything,” and like Puck, rejecting her to be with Lauren, and Brittany leaving instead of having the patience to wait for her to be ready (and coming out was a Huge Fucking Deal). Too often she felt like people looked at her and sex was all that they saw. Quinn, who had seen nearly every side of her, the ugly, the good, the bad, knew that she had place outside the bedroom, but in that one instance when she said ‘experiment’ when she was as ready to throw their actions away, to distance herself as quickly and eagerly as everyone else did, she couldn’t say that it didn’t hurt.

                “Quinn and I got in another fight,” she lied, “and I don’t know if our friendship is going to last past this.” The last part was true.

                A soothing hand moved up and down Santana’s back. “Santana, my love. Do you know why I gave you that money? Because I believe in you, and I believe in the woman that you are growing to be. I know that you have a bright future in front of you, and sometimes part of moving forward, is leaving the past behind. I know what you were like in high school,” Santana lifted her head. “I’ve heard rumors,” she explained. “But I can see that you were not the same person freshman year that you were senior, and you won’t be the same person tomorrow that you are today. I’m not telling you to throw away your friendships, or anything like that, but I’m telling you that you should be concentrating on your future. Part of growing up is realizing that we’re not supposed to carry everyone with us. I love it every time you come home, because I love you. But don’t be afraid to move on with your life, don’t be afraid to leave some things behind, and if your relationship with Quinn, or Brittany, or any one else can’t take a hit without it crumbling, then it’s not one that’s supposed to carry you into the future.

                “Use the opportunity that you have in front of you, actually take the time to get to know and befriend Kurt and Rachel for the people they are now, and start to live your life, mija. Your old mother will be there to cheer you on, every step of the way.

                Santana gave a smile through the tears, and her mother held her while she continued to cry.

 

( _I don’t care for gold_ )

                Life doesn’t just happen out of nowhere. It’s a series of events that can at times seem random, but fit together in just the right way, at just the right time, to form a complete and complex whole that sometimes we can’t understand even as it shapes us into the people that we are, and never thought that we’d be. There are no superfluous moments. There’s no part of life that doesn’t hold significance. Weight. Gravity. Even those things, the small things, the little things that we do, the moments we give away without knowing just how much they shape us, they change us. Nothing, not even casually thrown away words, are without the power to change.

There is an importance, a power, in the precision of words. Although Rachel was incredibly annoying in the way she talked, it was perhaps admirable that she didn't stop talking until she was sure she had accurately expressed herself, and her opinions, even if they were unwanted. Words are important. A smiley face delivered in a text message conveys nothing concrete other than a smiley face in a text message; it can mean absolutely anything. It can be a grimace, it can be a smile from ear to ear, it can mean that what was said prior has made you the happiest person in the world, it can elicit a polite smile, another smile in return. Its vague ambiguity is left in the translation between the person who sent it, and the person who received it, whereas if you actually said preciously what you mean, there’s no room for question. The more precise you are, the less room you leave for ambiguity, the less ambiguous, the less doubt.

                Santana learned the power of words at a very young age. While her father was busy with school, and later at the hospital, and her mother was either helping to put him through med school, chasing after and taking care of him, or finally going after her own career, she spent her time in the care of her abuela, who was slowly, but surely, setting the landscape that Santana would someday have to navigate.

                Camilla Lopez had a hard life. The daughter of a migrant farm worker, she grew up with very little and many people who believed that not only should her family be grateful for the scraps that they had worked hard to earn, but smile when they received them nonetheless. She had very little to her name but her looks, and that she had in droves. She was told so often that she was pretty that she grew to believe Bella was her name, and that looks were all that mattered. She may have been poor, but as long as she was young and pretty, she was happy because one day she knew that she’d have better; princesses may start in squalor, but they were only there as teaching lessons; they didn’t stay in that place. Their lives always became better.

                Better was always something that was over the rainbow. She got through her younger years by pure determination, and once she was a teen she understood her true power. She always had young men that were willing to squander their paychecks away on gifts for her in a vain attempt to solicit her company, but she turned each of them down so they would all know that she couldn’t be bought that cheaply. She’d be damned before she would marry a famer and raise a migrant worker for a son.

                So she smiled, and she flirted, but did nothing more than that until the day that one of the not as young men decided to take the decision away from her. Her father married her off to that man, but she was only under his tyrant-like rule for two years before she escaped with little more than the money for a train ticket, an infant who she had to take care of, and the last name of Lopez, a name she never wanted, but would never get rid of.

                The world was not kind to Camilla Lopez; it didn’t show her compassion, so Camilla Lopez was not kind back to it. Men would take advantage of the pretty, desperate, young mother, so she quickly lost the naiveté, and learned how to fend for herself. She would be her own strength in the world. If she didn’t have a protector, she’d be her own hero. After being challenged one too many times, she started carrying razor blades hidden in those same strands of hair that the men had once openly admired, so she would never be at the mercy of someone else’s hands again.

                Camilla wasn’t weak enough to fall for love…except for one man: Javier Lopez. She would have easily lain down her life for her son. She worked two, sometimes three, odd jobs at a time to give him even the semblance of a normal life. She stayed on him about his grades, she let him know from infancy that he’d grow up to be a doctor, and she promised him that she would do whatever it would take to make sure it happened. When her son started to fall for Maribel Costanzo, Camilla hated the woman because she feared that she would be a distraction…and was proven almost immediately right when not too soon after that they ended up pregnant with Santana, and Camilla feared that all of her hard work was all for naught.

                Life doesn’t just happen; it definitely doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Women that are hard used by life don’t suddenly become soft. Women who had to learn lessons the hard way, don’t easily forget the lessons they learned, nor how they learned them. And when they are charged with taking care of someone younger, someone who hasn’t had those same life lessons, they do one of two things: they let them learn, get hurt and scarred from life, or they do the hurting, the scaring, even without meaning to, usually without meaning to.

                Once Javier had made it out of med school and residency, Camilla thought that her family had made it to better…until the day Santana came home from her first week of kindergarten crying because she was teased by her classmates for not being pale, and blonde, and as pretty (by their standards), and at once Camilla was back to those years. She was back to that time that she had once been a pretty woman who every man desired, only now without those to admire her. Only those who would use her. Steal her beauty, her youth, try to convince her that she was not worth anything. They wouldn’t do the same to her granddaughter.

                She doesn’t regret much. She doesn’t regret teaching her granddaughter to determine her own self-worth, to demand it if she needed to. But if she knew the lengths Santana went to, to prove to herself that she was desirable, that she was worthy of the love that she sought in other people’s bed, maybe her mode wouldn’t have been so aggressive. But sometimes, somethings have consequences that we don’t intend. One observing from the outside might have considered her to be cruel, or selfish, but they hadn’t lived the life she had either, and until they did, who were they to judge?

                Despite her faults, Santana did grow up to be tough. Outwardly. But inside, her heart beat just as vulnerably as everyone else’s. If people had spent any time actually paying any real attention to the girl that their eyes followed as she strode through the hallways as if she owned them, they would have known that Santana was just as vulnerable, maybe even more so, than they were.

                So when Rachel once told her the only stage that she’d ever be on was with a stripper pole, and when Finn told her that sex with her was nothing, because it meant nothing, and when Puck reduced her to just a roll in the hay, and Brittany chose silence instead of defending her, and mere seconds after Santana had first made Quinn orgasm, Quinn immediately started to dismiss what they had done as nothing, these little instances, they just built and built things up.  Now mind, Santana knew she was no angel; she’d never pretend to be. And knowing the power of words, she had issued them out judiciously. She probably deserved worse than she got, maybe, but while her insults were degrading, and debasing, she had never reduced anyone to nothing. She knew that words had meaning.

                So when she told Quinn that she’d stay, she perhaps cemented her fate that night.

 

(What use is money)

                “One…two…three!” On cue, Santana opened her mouth and knocked back her shot cleanly to a chorus of, “To the back of the head!” said both in English and Spanish. Santana felt a smile curling over her lips, for no reason other than she was young, pretty and, apparently, drunk. She didn’t normally drink at work; like the rest of the Coyotes she had already mastered the subtle art of spitting out the shot into a bottle of beer, a necessity for working where she worked, but today she had decided to indulge. Miraculously she wasn’t drinking to drown out any sorrows, or because of pain, but because she was happy, actually happy. She was employed, she was learning the city, she was somewhat getting along with Rachel and Kurt.   

                A guy across the bar returned her smile, thinking it was for him. “You’re amazing,” he shouted over the bar. “And so pretty!”

                She gave him an encouraging smile because he called her pretty and not hot, like most of the other guys that came to the bar.

                “Thank you!”

                He was pretty, too. Blonde, with light green eyes, and…what the hell was she thinking?  She hadn’t spent much time thinking about Quinn and their awkward roll in the hay since it happened, but looking at the guy perched in front of her, her mind drifted off to wondering what Quinn was doing. She hadn't had any contact with the girl since the wedding, a fact that she was unsurprised about, nor was she surprised that Quinn was actively avoiding her.

                Thorough intentional and unintentional eavesdropping she knew that Quinn kept in contact with Rachel. Even without Rachel screaming her name, Santana could tell, just by the tone of Rachel’s voice, whenever she was on the phone with Quinn. Santana never understood Rachel’s obsession with the girl, but she was glad that Quinn had at least one friend that she was talking to regularly, even if it wasn’t her. She knew that if she asked, it wouldn’t take much to get Rachel to update her on what was going on in Quinn’s life, but she didn’t ask. So, Santana had put her to the back of her mind, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about her from time to time. And now, with alcohol flowing so nicely through her veins, she found herself hovering over the phone, toying with the idea of calling Quinn up if for no reason than to tell her adventures in the Hummel-Pez-Berry loft.

                Rachel, (and Kurt) so far, were turning out to be not that bad as roommates. If Santana had known, prior to living with her, the full benefits of Rachel Berry being her friend, she may have taken her up on one of the numerous offers of friendship back in high school. Despite how high strung and high maintenance the girl was, it was nice sometimes, her obsessiveness. Nice having someone to make sure that she had meals, and who knew where she was, and called if she was fifteen minutes later than when she said she’d be coming home…if, that is, Santana actually went through the trouble of letting the girl know where she was, or where she was going. It wasn’t a love affair, but it was a tether, a reminder to keep her feet on the ground, which was sincerely something she needed at the moment.

                Santana was learning to like New York. Each day the city grew smaller for her. It was subtly shifting from this big grand concept, to a day to day. Santana had spent almost her entire life in Lima, Ohio, and as street wise as she pretended to be, she still wasn’t quite prepared for the big city. But she was soldiering through it. Even though getting lost in New York terrified her, she found it a necessary evil. A challenge.

                Santana smiled at the male Quinn surrogate, and tucked her tips into her bra, before she was lifted onto the counter by one of the fellow Coyotes. She was loving her new life. She found Kurt and Rachel becoming her family, and Quinn became this entity that was within two hours of her, that she never attempted to go see.

                In the end, though, Quinn came to her.

                There was no preamble. No phone calls, no texts, just Quinn on the other side of the door one day.

                Santana felt suddenly clairvoyant as she took in Quinn. They had known each other for far too long for Santana not to be able to read into the reason why Quinn was there. It was obvious, really. The look reminded her too much of the wedding, when Quinn had had enough drinks to say ‘fuck it’, and let Santana know that she was openly flirting with her where anyone could see them and wonder where Quinn’s mind was. Santana wondered if she was going to be so bold _this_ time.

                Santana didn’t know what to make of the situation. Oh, she knew the look, but she couldn’t figure out the why. And then it dawned on her: Quinn hated to be bad at anything, even if it was having sloppy drunken sex with your friend/enemy. 

                When they kissed, the kiss was far more passionate than Santana was expecting. She knew why Quinn was there, but she was caught off guard by the passion she didn’t expect to find there. Santana drew back, expressing her confusion. “What do you want right now?”

                Santana had meant in a grander sense, and was taking aback by the bold, “I want you to take me. Right now,” from the otherwise prude Quinn. It sent a shiver down her spine intensive enough to scare her.

                Well if that’s what Quinn wanted, who was Santana to deny her? But if they were going to do this again, Santana was going to make it worth both their whiles. She wasn’t going to suffer through Quinn’s bumbling again, but Quinn was surprising. She had practiced. Of course Quinn would go at make-up sex like a school lesson, but there was something in the encounter that Santana couldn’t place. The way they tasted, the way they moved together, the way Quinn melted underneath her touch but kept pulling Santana in…it struck her as much, much more than a re-do of the wedding. She and Quinn weren’t just touching each other, they were learning each other. That’s not something you did with just every encounter. That’s something you do with someone you expect to come back to; like a reader placing a bookmark in between the pages of a book.

                With each touch, Santana thought _Quinn._ With every taste, Santana thought _Quinn_. With every flick, and twist, and moan, and whimper Santana thought _Quinn._ And if she wasn’t so obsessed with every single bit of what was going on between them, the thought would have given Santana pause. They weren’t just using each other, they were there in that moment, and both of them stayed aware of it, the entire time. It scared her that she didn’t want the moment to end.

                When Quinn was finished, there was a pride on Quinn’s face, and a tenderness, that startled Santana. Quinn coming back to prove that she wasn’t a bad lay, that wasn’t surprising to Santana, but the look on her face, that was.

 

                Santana flipped her over and got lost in between her legs, before she could get lost in her.

 

( _When you need someone to hold_ )

 

                Santana checked her phone. She had no missed calls, no texts, no voice mail. She wanted to say that she hadn’t really expected there to be any, but that wasn’t true. She didn’t expect any, but she hoped. She and Quinn had had an interesting relationship, ephemeral really. They went in varying waves of liking each other, of hating each other, of being there for each other. They had been distant, and they had been intimate. Santana’s opinion of the woman was just as convoluted. If Santana had to characterize her sometimes friend, hypocritical was always pretty high on her list. Hypocritical because she pretended to be a Christian, but was so mean to just about everyone, especially Rachel, who was of the religion of her Lord and Savior, so you’d think she’d be kinder to one of HIS people. Hypocritical because she preached abstinence, but got pregnant. Hypocritical because she encouraged Rachel not to give up her future for a man, but had shown herself to do that very thing, many times before.  

                Two faced was high up there, too. Most people couldn’t figure out what was going on behind those cool color changing eyes, and the only reason that Santana could was because she had spent so much time practicing, in learning who Quinn was. Quinn was the kind of woman who would make a great politician, who believed in a code of morality that she herself did not prescribe to, but would make anyone else who could not achieve it feel like an utter failure.

                Manipulative. Prior to her getting pregnant, she had played her mom and dad and sister against each other, hell she had played the whole of McKinley, as if she were a grand master chest champion and everyone else were just pieces on a black and white chess board.

                Dominating. No matter where Quinn went in life, she would stalk through it. Stalk through the halls of McKinley, stalk down the halls of her job, of her home. She would, undoubtedly, command every place that she went, every room that she entered, every heart that she captured. She had to be the dominant in every situation, even if it she was wildly inapt, like the first time they had sex. If Quinn had just deferred to the more experienced sexual partner, their first encounter wouldn’t have been so terrible, but Quinn had to attempt to control that, to disastrous results.

                Which brought Santana to the next personality trait: resilient. Santana watched Quinn fail, over and over again. She tried so hard, only to fall so ridiculously short, and Santana loved that about her. She liked that Quinn was so fantastically flawed. She liked that the world kept insisting on knocking her off of her high horse, and that Quinn kept getting back up, a little better as a person every time. Santana could honestly say that she didn’t like Quinn as a person, but she imagined that one day she might.

                Loving. Not to everyone, not to hardly anyone. Quinn was someone who, like Santana, had had an abuela in her life, only her abuela wasn’t just her grandmother, it was every member of her family. So much of Quinn’s manipulation of the world was born from the desire to create a space where she actually belonged. She tolerated Finn’s dumbness, because she was certain that Finn would love her blindly; she didn’t seek to marry anther Russell because she didn’t want to bring kids into that kind of environment. Santana was sure that she had seen Quinn love only two people: Beth and Brittany. It was Quinn’s love for Brittany that endeared her to Quinn, made Santana see through the less than perfect characteristics that made her friend up. Like with Santana, Brittany softened Quinn into a person, and before Santana and Brittany had gotten so incredibly close, Brittany had equally doled out the hugs, the arm pats, the shoulder rubs, the forehead kisses, and the snuggling to the two of them.

                Santana couldn’t fault Quinn for her flawed character, because they were so much alike. Santana didn’t fault Quinn. Well, she did. She faulted Quinn for being Quinn, for storming into this part of her life, and disappearing. For making her wonder if maybe there could be something that could grow between them, if they somehow managed to get past themselves.

                But her phone remained silent.

                When it did ring again, Santana wished that it had remained silent.

                She was on a bathroom break at work, checking herself in the mirror when her phone went off. The shirt she was wearing was tight enough that she had to do a little wiggle to free it from her bra. She gave a look at the caller before she connected the call. “Hey Puck, you fucker? What’s up?”

                There wasn’t an answer right away, giving Santana a little pause. “Santana, man.” She could tell something was off. “Shit. It wasn’t my fault, okay, this wasn’t my fault.”

                Santana frowned at her reflection, then turned around so she wasn’t staring at herself. Leaning slightly against the sink she questioned, “What wasn’t your fault?”

                “it’s bad, Santana, we fucked up, and Finn…”

                “What the fuck is going on?”

                “It wasn’t my fault!”

                “Puck!”

                It sounded like Puck was on the verge of tears. She knew, in that second, that she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say next. “What happened?”

                “Finn got high on…something. I don’t know what the fuck he took, and there were these dudes…it wasn’t my fault, okay? It was Finn’s dumb ass who suggested it.”

                “Puck, you better start making s-,”

                “He’s dead, Santana. Finn’s dead. He crashed the car into this wall, and everyone’s going to try to say it’s my fault, but I had nothing to do with this!”

                “You left him?” Santana realized.

                She imagined him running his fingers through his Mohawk. “What was I supposed to do?” Puck pleaded, begging for a forgiveness that Santana couldn’t give.

                “Stay with your fucking friend,” Santana shouted back into the phone. “Please tell me you didn’t actually leave your friend to die alone!”

                Puck was silent, gathering himself. “There was nothing to do! He’d already been pulled from the car; it wasn’t like there was anything to do, and there were sirens coming…I’m on probation, remember? I can’t got to jail!”

                Santana hung up the phone in disgust, wishing she had one of those old-fashioned phones that she could slam down. _That fucking piece of garbage_ …so occupied was she in her distaste at Puck’s cowardice, that it took her a few minutes for Puck’s words to actually catch up to her: Finn was dead. Finn Hudson was dead. Finn…

                For one long second, his life flashed in front of her eyes. Not the scene in the hallway, not the dismissal in bed, but of the three of them: she, Puck, and Finn, in all their fumbling, awkward adolescence. It was Halloween. She was Cleopatra, her chest plate stuffed with cotton tissues to make up for her lack of chest, Puck was Hulk Hogan, Finn was Superman. He was tall, and skinny, and geeky, but invincible behind his mask and cape. That Finn was dead, and Puck, Hulk, had run off because he didn’t want to be blamed.

                Santana pressed the palms of her hands hard into her eyes, to try to stop herself from breaking down.

                “Yo, Snix, what’s taking you…?” Santana felt a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, everything okay?”

                “Fine,” Santana said, surprised by the hollowness of her voice. There was a noise behind her that she didn’t try to figure out.

                “Hey, Lil?”

                There was another voice, an older, more worn voice. “Snix, you okay?”

                Santana had to pull herself together. She removed her fists, opened her eyes, blinking in the light as little white pops flashed in front of her eyes. She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Fine,” she lied. “Brittany just texted me that they took Sweet Valley High off of Netflix. I needed a moment.”

                The hand moved up and down her back, reminding her of her mom. In Lima. “You don’t look good, Snix, do you need to go home?”

                _Not yet, but I’ll have to_.

                “Santana?”

                Lily, the older, blonde haired woman, her boss, didn’t mean Lima. She meant home. To the Loft. With Kurt, Finn’s stepbrother, and Rachel, the woman who, despite all logic, actually imagined a happily ever after with the clumsy oaf of a man, who had more tantrums than brains, and was the personification of middle class mediocrity. Was. Was the personification of-,

                Santana gasped, harshly, and rushed from the room, only pausing to grab her purse before she was out of there. Oh god, how could she tell them? Yea, Santana had been cruel to both of them during their school years, but they were friends now; Santana couldn’t, she couldn’t be the one to break their hearts. _Fucking Noah_. _How could you leave this to me to do?_

                Santana couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel. Rachel who was just inches from her dream, Rachel who only seemed to want two things: Broadway and her leading man. Despite lip service, despite her Brodys, and the guys who temporary held her attention, she was still in love with Finn, and Santana guessed it was the true kind. The kind you would give up everything for. Santana wondered what that felt like. She thought she had it with Brittany, she imagined that she would get married to her some day, and she broke up with her, why? Because it would be tough to have her, but not have her? Distance would only be the smaller problems that she’d have to deal with in the course of forever.

                She wondered how people did love. She thought about her abuela, who hadn’t had it, and her parents, who still had it, and Kurt and Blaine, even, who seemed to have too much of it. She thought about Brittany, single, and discovering who she was, and she thought about Quinn.

                She didn’t even realize that she was headed to New Haven until the train stopped. She had to get off, but after she just sat on the train bench, wondering how she had even gotten to New Haven, but more importantly wondering how she was going to actually tell Rachel that she wasn’t going to get her fairy tale?

                Eventually, she started walking toward campus. It was a long walk, and Santana needed every minute it took to get there.

                Quinn answered the door in sweat pants and a t-shirt, her Cheerios one, in fact. She was so cold, and Quinn was so warm, and she clung to her, desperately. They yielded to each other, submitted to each other, took nothing, and gave everything. Santana merely collapsed into the embrace that Quinn offered even after they had stopped moving against each other. She wanted to stay in this space forever. She didn’t ever want to let the real world, the world where Finn was dead, in. But Quinn brought her back to that world, and Santana had to pass along the words that Puck had given to her, in a twisted game of tag. “Finn’s dead.”

                Santana fell apart, but Quinn kept all of the pieces together, once again demonstrating that love that Santana knew Quinn felt, for a selective group of people in her life. The two of them weren’t in love with each other, but they did love each other, and Santana took comfort in that imperfect love, until she gathered up her courage to go home, and face the upcoming months.

 

(Got no Direction)

                Dani rested her hands on top of the clothes in Santana’s luggage, sitting back on her heels. She smiled up at Santana. “Well, it’s only a week, but I think you managed to cram a life time full of clothes into this poor little suitcase.”

                Santana leaned across for a kiss. “Don’t hate on my fabulous, just because you think that converses, jeans and a t is all you need in life.”

                Dani chuckled and nodded. “Wrong. All you need is love.”

                She slammed the lid on the suitcase, zipping it closed. It was tilted up right and joined the other two bags waiting by the door. Although Dani was going to walk her to the subway, they paused in the doorway. “I wish you were coming too, babe.”

                Dani leaned her head on Santana’s shoulder. “Next time,” she assured. “And every time after that.” She kissed her on the neck. “Every time.” Their relationship was new, but it already felt old. In a good way. Santana was enjoying every minute of this.

                Santana turned so they could see each other. “Be good,” Dani teased. Santana started to pull out of the embrace, but Dani pulled her back. “Fix this with you and Rachel,” she said. “You too are too good of friends to let this mess things up.”

                Santana huffed, but she gave a smile before they said good-bye.

                Brittany met her on the other side of her plane, and didn’t hesitate to intertwine their pinkies. “This is going to be so great!” Brittany declared, “Mr. Shue wants us to reinvent our favorite performances;” she frowned slightly. “I haven’t really danced since I left.”

                “Well, we’re going to have to change that,” Santana said, insistently.

                Brittany’s look didn’t change. “I said I’d do this number, but that’s all,” she said, as if to remind the both of them.

                Santana sighed, but didn’t argue. The thought of Brittany _not_ dancing just seemed wrong. She could sense Brittany’s sadness, and she hated it, because somehow Brittany sad was worse than anyone else on the whole planet being sad. Brittany sad made puppies cry.

                 They crowded into Brittany’s room, Santana taking the chair, Quinn taking the bed. Brittany’s room was unchanged since she left for MIT. Lord Tubbington, stretched out across the pillow, and Quinn dug her fingers under his chin, scratching the spot that only Quinn seemed to be able to find.

                “OMG,” Brittany said suddenly, sprawling across the ottoman. “Can you believe what Sandra wore to school today?”

                Santana laughed, throwing a look to Quinn. “Totally, barf! Like could she have any less of a clue?”

                Quinn picked up the nail file in an approximation of Santana, and started filing away. “Not even if her daddy bought her one, like he bought her all of her friends freshman year.”

                They collapsed into a fit of giggles. “You guys,” Quinn asserted. “We were total bitches.”

                Santana nodded, smiling. “Yeah, we were.”

                “So, I figured out the song we should do,” Brittany said, sitting up. “Toxic!” her eyes met Santana’s. “Don’t you think so, Santana?”

                Santana looked away from Brittany, and very carefully didn’t look at Quinn. She seemed to recall that Sue claiming that song had created a ‘sexpocolapse’ or something like that.

                 “Isn’t that song a bit racy?”

                Quinn scoffed. “Since when did you care about racy?” _Since I had sex with the both of you._

                “Yeah, when did you become a girl scout, San?” Brittany teased.

                “It’ll be fun.”

                Santana balked because it was Quinn who just said that. “Not a girl scout,” Santana mumbled. “Dani.”

                “And I’ve got a boyfriend,” Quinn said with her special patented Quinn eye-roll, “It’s just a dance.”

                “I don’t have anyone,” Brittany said, proudly, reminding Santana of the time when they were in high school and Brittany had boasted that she was going to prom alone. But then Santana remembered what she had said about taking everyone else’s dates, and she began to have the tiniest misgivings. Brittany had never been shy about going after what she wanted. “So, I’m not too worried about trying to impress anyone. I’m a little out of practice, so I don’t want the choreography to be too complicated; I don’t know how good I’m going to be.”

                Brittany was oblivious about the effect of her words, but Santana’s eyes darted over to Quinn because she was almost certain that the last time Quinn had danced had been the night of Will and Emma’s wedding that wasn’t. “We could do most of the dancing sitting down,” Santana suggested.

                “I like that idea,” Brittany chirped. “I do excellent lap dances.”

                Santana willed herself not to remember how great her lap dances were. “Yea, you do, Britt,” Quinn said to Santana’s surprise, and Santana really had to will herself to not remember how Quinn knew that. “I don’t care what we do as long as we look good doing it. I want Biff to know exactly what he’s getting.”

                “Wanky!”

                Quinn rolled her eyes, but she smiled, never taking her gaze off Santana.

                For being out of practice, it didn’t take Brittany long to work out a routine. They played Toxic on repeat and worked on the routine for the next two hours before they decided to take a break. Quinn winced as she made her way over to the bed to sit down while Brittany got refreshments. Santana offered to massage out her lower back to work out the kinks.

                “Thank you,” Quinn said, turning so that she could see a little bit of Santana’s profile. Santana’s hand ghosted over one of the scars, feeling how smooth the puckered skin was underneath her fingers. Santana liked the scars, the distended flesh. They were smooth, and warm, and attached to a body that was very much alive.

                Quinn let out an appreciative grunt. “That feels so good. It can get a little sore sometimes.”

                “It’s getting better, though, right?”

                Quinn nodded. “Yea, just sometimes it gets kind of tense every now and then; nothing as bad as after Nationals.”

                Brittany returned and set the refreshments on the bed, wordlessly going over to her closet and digging through it. “I was thinking about our costumes while I was downstairs, and what do you think about these?”

                If anyone had ever wondered if Britney was stupid, they would have gotten the answer right then and there, because the ‘costume’ that she had unearthed was the one from the naughty Halloween collection, and the last time Brittany had worn it Santana had been so turned on that she had slammed Brittany up against the door and they had been several hours late to the party that they were supposed to be attending. Santana bit off the moan that was threatening to escape her lips, something that would have been doubly awkward as her hands were currently touching Quinn.

                “Brit, err…don’t you think that that’s a little bit too…revealing…to walk around McKinley in?”

                “Oh, come on San, there’s a skirt and we’ve walked around McKinley wearing less.”

                She fought down another groan. Sue might have been a crazy psychopathic dictator, but being a Cheerio had had its advantages: Sue’s oddball practices meant that they had had the run of the school and on more than one occasion when they had had a really late practice, Santana and Brittany had made good use of a few of the classrooms, and the lunchroom table. And the stage in the auditorium. And the piano in the choir room…really, if any of the Glee club wanted to know the real reason Santana smiled so much senior year…well…

                Brittany, never known as one to be shy, stripped out of her pants and shirt, and let her bra fall to the floor. She took her time redressing in the costume. Santana realized that she was staring when Quinn moved beneath her fingers, and she realized that she had stopped massaging Quinn’s back. Santana realized Brittany was flirting. Brittany was never subtle, and from the second she arrived in Lima, Brittany had been staking a claim. Santana knew what she was doing, and she was deflecting at every turn because Santana was in a relationship with Dani, and although it was going slow, it was her first post high school relationship, Santana wanted to see how far it would go. She’d never dated someone that didn’t know every little detail about her, and she was finding it exciting, slowly getting each puzzle piece together to make up the whole.

                “I think this is sure to hold Biff’s attention, Quinn, don’t you think?” Brittany did a spin, causing the skirt to lift. Unlike their cheerleading skirts, there were no spankies beneath, and somehow the fact that Brittany was wearing cotton panties with hearts, ducks, and captions on it was hotter than the lacy, nearly not there bra that was currently encasing her breasts. Santana felt her resolve crumbling into little pieces. She let out a moan, and her hand slipped, dipping further down than she intended. She felt Quinn shiver.

                The old Santana, the high school Santana, would have seized on that moment of weakness from Quinn; making a joke, or just grinding into her. Hell, high school Santana, would have already had her lips pressed against Brittany’s, her tongue working itself in her mouth, and her hands exploring her body, as she suggested a threesome just to see Quinn squirm. The Santana who hadn’t nearly crumbled into a million pieces after Brittany fake married Sam Evans (of all people), slept with her best friend and then didn’t hear from her for months, would have taken advantage. But she was New York Santana, she was the new Santana who was currently dating a fabulously talented and beautiful girl, she was the new Santana who had landed a Yeast-i-stat commercial, and was the understudy to a Broadway play, she was…watching Brittany slow walk over towards her with Britney Spears playing in the background, and somehow the space between her and Quinn had disappeared, and her own hands were pressed dangerously close to her core. _“Baby can’t you see, I’m calling, a guy like you...”_

                Quinn’s right hand, which had been resting on the top of Santana’s thighs, moved along the top, digging gently into Santana’s flesh.

                “Quinn likes it, don’t you Quinn?” Brittany purred.

                Santana didn’t see Quinn lick her lips, but she saw her rapidly nodding. Brittany straddled Quinn, pushing her further into Santana’s core, causing friction, and eliciting a moan, but from whom, Santana wasn’t quite sure. It occurred to her, when Brittany started to give Quinn a lap dance in time with the music, that she had seen both of these girls naked, had kissed both of them, touched both of them intimately, had tasted them. Oh God, the taste. Without realizing it, her fingers were scratching up and down the small of Quinn’s back.

                “Britt,” Santana whined. “W-what’re you doing?”

                Quinn gave a glance back at Santana, her eyes hooded, a smirk on her face. “I think it’s obvious what she’s doing.” Quinn stated. Brittany turned back around, and smiled seductively at the two of them.

                “I, I can’t do this,” Santana remarked, sense coming back to her. “I-I think that the choreography we’ve already got will work. I’m going to check in with the wonder twins. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

                She high tailed it out of there before either of the two could answer, and she spent the rest of the afternoon, wandering around Lima, trying not to visualize the image of Brittany and Quinn going at it in Santana’s absence. Like what the fuck was that?

                She wondered the same thing when Brittany kissed her later, when it was just the two of them. She didn’t kiss her back, but she had wanted to, bad enough that the guilt of the whole thing drove her to break it off with Dani. In good conscious she couldn’t move forward with someone else, if leaning in was that appealing to her.

                And it was Brittany. Her Brittany. Her real, in front of her, possible soul mate, and that wasn’t something that Santana could just freely give up. She was surprised by Quinn’s reaction, but Quinn wasn’t reality. Quinn was a fantasy wrapped up in uncertainty, while Brittany was real, and in her face, and someone that she wasn’t ready to let go of. Santana was so tired of dealing with uncertainty, in her life, in her relationships, in her future. Brittany wasn’t an uncertainty, Brittany was a certain thing. Her best friend. Her future.

                Without guilt, she hopped on board a plane to travel halfway across the world for a few weeks.

                And ended up staying gone for a year.

                It wasn’t intentional. It was just how things were with Brittany. Santana had no idea what she wanted from life, or where she intended to go, and she was content with Brittany pointing in a direction, and the two of them rushing off, with no known direction other than go. Brittany was good with creating her own little bubbles, and Santana was great at living in them. They lived like there was no other truth than the two of them, no other world than the ones that they inhabited together.

                Life changes not dramatically, but over time. Little changes, a butterfly beating its wings, changes the course of history. Most people don’t fall in love with the big picture, they fall in love with the strokes and brushes and dabs of paint that happen on the outskirts: the way their lover blinks themselves awake, the way they go out of their way to get you a flower, or never say literally because they know how much you hate its blatant misuse. The way they hold your hand, or keep your gaze. It’s the little things that fold together to make the whole. And so it was with Santana.

                When a big, life alerting event happens in the movies, you know that everything is about to change. It announces its presence, its in your face. We carry that belief over into our lives; we tend to think that when something life altering happens, it starts with a grand gesture, an acknowledgement that life is about to change. But Santana’s life defining moment started with giggles, and stripping down naked with Brittany 10 feet away from her, her white skin practically glowing, shivering slightly, not because it was cold, but because bodies are so used to clothing that we believe them to be a necessity. 

                “You’re glowing,” Santana teased.

                Brittany made a silly face imitating a monster, or something, curling her fingers, and sticking out her tongue as she advanced towards Santana. It wasn’t scary, but Santana screamed anyway because she was extremely ticklish and she knew where those fingers were heading. So she took off, naked as the day she was born, towards the beach. When the first waves hit her, the water was so warm that she kept on going because that’s where their destination was anyway. They hadn’t stripped just to strut on the beach after all.

                They swam, just out past the point where the waves crashed upon the shore. The water here was so tame that it was more like they were swimming in a lake than the ocean. Santana wasn’t that strong of a swimmer, not as strong as Brittany, and after a while she slowed her strokes. She rolled over onto her back, and looked up at the sky, and that was it. That’s all it took for her life to be completely altered. To be reborn.

                The metaphor didn’t escape her. She was literally stripped naked, floating in a pool of warm water, gently rocked by the tide that, if she thought hard enough, might be an imitation of the sound of a heartbeat heard from the inside of a body. This moment was as close to being inside the womb as it was possible to be; she let her arms float up and out, her legs spread open in a horizontal approximation of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

And she stared. There were only a few constellations that she could make out, a few being two: Orion-courtesy of his belt and one of the dippers; she wasn’t sure which. She knew there were others. Wolves, bears crabs, men, women, a dog star, but she didn’t know which ones each were, or where they were in the night sky. Floating there she had this inane thought, even though she didn’t know all the stars’ names, she had the desire to.

                The thoughts hit her, stronger than the force of the waves that were temporarily washing around her at bay. Random things, like how trigonometry was used by captains to determine their location on earth, how every culture had different names, different gods for the same stars. She thought about, of all things, the swastika, and how, before Hitler had stolen and perverted it, it had become prevalent in many different cultures. The belief was that one day in antiquity a comet passed so closely to the earth that its tail was bent, and it had such an impact on mankind that every culture, across the globe, copied the image into their art, and their lives; that it was an event so powerful that it transcended all people. She thought about Calculus, about approaching infinity and how you could always approach, but could never touch, because of limits.

Yet, and still, she raised her hand up to the sky, just to make sure it really was as far away as she believed.

 

                It would be another several months before Brittany’s dancing feet would turn their journey homeward, but mentally Santana had already started on her own journey, and it thrilled her to know that she had a destination.

                  _And it’s up she goes._

 

(I’m just rolling down this road)

                Rachel’s short frame stood on tip-toes to see them. “There,” Santana saw her tug on Kurt’s sleeve. “There they are, Kurt!”

                Santana waved, grabbing Brittany’s hand, and steering her towards their friends. After they hugged, Kurt stared pointedly at both of their hands, as if there would be something there that hadn’t been when they left.

                “What are you looking for, Tink?” Santana demanded.

                “Just checking that you and Britt didn’t pull a-,” and then he caught himself, darting a guilty look Rachel’s way, but Rachel was busy with Brittany, and didn’t hear Kurt almost say Finn’s name.

                Santana stretched her fingers out in front of her, to show that there was no ring there, but they’d come close. Brittany had brought up them getting married when they were in Mumbai, but they decided that they would want their friends and family there (and Santana honestly wasn’t keen on getting married to Brittany less than a year after she thought she’d married Sam).

                When it was time for Santana and Rachel’s hug, Rachel was overly enthusiastic, but instead of pushing the girl away and throwing in an insult, Santana just obliged her. She was surprised that she was actually really happy to see her.

                They went out for lunch and squeezed into a booth. Brittany played with her hand as Rachel talked incessantly, Kurt chiming in every now and then, and Brittany punctuating it all with her laughter.

                “So we were all sitting together, and Sam and Blaine were doing their crazy bit, and Mercedes was doing that thing where she pretended that she wasn’t amused by Sam, and Quinn’s rolling her eyes the whole time-,”

                Santana started paying attention at the mention of Quinn’s name. A couple of times while she was traveling she had thought about her, had even made a half attempt at writing her a letter, but had backed out at the last minute.

                “How is everyone doing?” Santana questioned.

                “Oh, great. Well, except for Sam; I don’t think he likes living in New York all that well. But Mercedes is steadily getting work, and Kurt’s busy with Nyada…I think I’m going to try to go back, but I’m not really sure yet, and Blaine.” Santana tuned out until she got to the place Santana actually wanted her. “Oh, and Quinn received some special award. You know she received some Freshman honor last year,” Santana didn’t, “so she was an ambassador to a delegation in Prague last summer, and when she was there she met with this, I forget, I think he was a UN ambassador, or something like that, and yeah she got some commendation a few months ago, and she just got finished playing the lead in _Left of the Field.”_

                Santana snorted. “Figures.”

                “We were in Prague,” Brittany offered.

                “So Quinn is still doing the drama major?”

                Rachel nodded. “Yep. I don’t see why she wouldn’t. Theatre is a time-tested career choice and while it is not-,”

                Santana wasn’t listening. She cut her off. “I’ve never heard of that play.”

                “It was student written, produced, etc., it’s part of the program.”

                “Don’t tell me that someone convinced Quinn it was a good idea to show her nips to an ‘adoring crowd’. I mean you might be dumb enough to fall for that, Berry, but no way Quinn did.”

                Rachel rolled her eyes. _Hard._ “No. Her clothes stayed on. It’s kind of like a mix between  _Fried Green Tomatoes_ and _Waiting for Godot_ ,” and she started rambling. Santana was off imagining Quinn playing the role, and a little smile appeared on her face. 

                Rachel wanted them to move into the loft but Santana was hesitant. Kurt and Rachel enthusiastically told Santana that she still had a place there, but it felt all wrong to her to go back there with Brittany, and she wasn’t sure why. 

                "I just want some time to get settled in before we deal with Glee, yanno?" Santana attempted to explain to her girlfriend.

                Santana was sure Brittany didn't know, but she nodded her head anyway. Santana called Dani and they crashed at her place while they looked for one of their own. They had used about half of Santana's graduation gift on their year long trip, and the rest had been funded by their tourism, Brittany's dancing, and Santana singing a few gigs. It had been incredible seeing how far they could go on not a lot of money, and while Santana's money hadn’t been used the way Maribel had intended for it to be, Santana had come back from her trip knowing what she wanted to do. She still had some of it left, so Santana didn't think the money was wasted. And she figured she'd have to use a little bit more of it to buy Brittany the ring. When you practically get married to someone, you should probably buy them an engagement ring.           

                Santana hesitated though, putting it on to the list of one of those things that she would do some other time. She had plenty of time, and she knew that she and Brittany were going to get married at some point. She couldn’t see herself waiting until she was done with school, but she wanted a few more months, a year maybe, before she did it. And she wanted to be able to have the money to give Brittany, not the wedding she wanted, (god her family would never come to a wedding that over the top), but a nice wedding in any regards.

                And luckily it didn’t take them long to find  _their_ place. Santana’s parents were footing the bill for Santana’s schooling, and the apartment just barely went over the limit they set for her rooming, so with Brittany and her putting in a few hours a week they could easily cover that. It was a small one-room walk up, but that’s what you came to New York to live in. Rachel had seriously just won the apartment lottery, and Santana shuddered to think how much Hiram and Leroy had had to shell out a month for that monstrous loft. Santana would miss living there with Rachel and Kurt, but as she walked through the apartment that she and Brittany bought together, she could really see herself there. This could be home.

                They were just three days into their year-long lease when Santana came home to find Brittany frantically packing clothes that Santana had just previously unpacked. “What’s going on, babe?”

                “Seattle,” Brittany said in a rushed voice. “It’s always wet in Seattle, and I don’t know what all I should pack, and then it’s down to LA and all that sun!”

                Santana frowned, watching Brittany’s movements, noting how, even frantically packing, she had a gracefulness to her that no one else seemed to possess. How soon was too soon for that ring?

                “Umberto, you know my agent? He just called like, an hour ago. There’s a troupe that’s forming and they want me to be the lead!”

                Santana fell back against the door frame. “We just got back.”

                “It’s paid, and I’d be the lead.”

                “We just signed a lease and I’ve enrolled at NYU.” It was only general education classes, but it was a start. She felt like her life was getting back on track. 

                “Hon, you know I only have a few good years, and this opportunity, you cant…I won’t have this opportunity again.”

                “Okay.”

                Brittany easily accepted Santana’s acquiesce, as if she didn’t even doubt that Santana would give up any plans she’d made to chase after her.

                “We can get someone to sublease the apartment. Maybe Mercedes or Sam, or Rachel could find us someone!”

                “We don’t need to do that.”

                “Even with the pay I can’t afford an apartment we’re not living in.”

                Santana looked down at her nails, her brows frowning at their state. She needed a manicure. She looked up, but Brittany wasn’t looking at her anyway. “I’m staying,” she said, clearly.

                Brittany actually slowed in her movements for the first time. “What do you mean?”

                “Babe, we just go back after being away from all of our friends and family for over a year. I know that this opportunity is a big one, and I want you to take it, but I can’t go with you.”

                “But…” Brittany frowned. “You have to.”

                “Brittany, I’ve got to live my own life.”

                “I thought I was your life. You don’t want to be with me anymore?”

                This was where Santana was supposed to cross the room and comfort Brittany, and she started to take a stride to do so, but she paused because she knew where that one stride would take her. Less than a year ago it had taken her halfway across the world. They had stayed away a lot longer than Santana would have liked, and they had only come home once Brittany had decided on it. “No, Britt, it’s not that at all. You’re all my love, my life-,”

                “Then why don’t you want to be with me?”

                “I do. I’ll always want that, but I need, I need my own adventure, and I’ve just started one, don’t you see? I can’t live it if I’m chasing after you while you’re chasing after your dreams, and I’m letting mine go.”

                Santana could see Brittany thinking things over. She was relieved when she saw Brittany stalk across the room, shortening the distance between them. “What does this mean for us? We just got back to great.”

                Santana nodded, because it was nice, spending this past year together in this little bubble, but that wasn’t honest. It was hiding away from the world instead of taking it on. Together. “I don’t want it to mean that we’re over,” Santana said firmly.

                Brittany pouted. “We don’t do well, long distance.”

                “I know,” Santana begrudgingly admitted. What it probably meant, maybe not today, but somewhere down the line, was that they were over, but people don’t often know they’ve reached the end, not until they look up and realize that they’ve finally run out of road. “I don’t want to do a long-distance relationship. I don’t want us to have to lie to ourselves about that working.”

                “So…we what? We take a break?”

                Santana met her gaze. “How about we just say good-bye… for now? Brittany, we both know we’re always going to be together, I’m Santana, you’re Brittany, that’s the only truth there is. Since we know that, since we stand strong in that, we don’t have to worry about anything else ever pulling us apart, because we’ll always pull back together.”

                “Like magnets,” Brittany said, brightening.

                Santana nodded, and tried not to think about how if you didn’t match magnets up with the right poles, there was no force strong enough to keep them together.

                Brittany gave a reluctant nod, but it was she that reached forward to wipe the tear away from Santana’s eye. “Just for now.”

                Santana watched Brittany continue to pack, and in the morning she accompanied her to the airport, and said good-bye.

                She didn’t call Quinn to let her know that she was back in town, and Quinn didn’t call her, either, but the week didn’t pass without Quinn finding her way up to New York, and even though she said that she made the trip almost every other weekend, that didn’t stop Santana from getting excited at the thought that Quinn was specifically coming to visit her, that she had maybe even started the trips in the first place so that when Santana _did_ come back, she’d have a year-long excuse for how it wasn’t Santana that she was going to see, when in reality it was. Or maybe that was just all in her head.

                On Friday, night, though, she was too excited about her arrival to just wait for her to show up at the loft, so she decided to meet her as she got off the train. Santana saw Quinn before Quinn had the chance to see her. She hadn’t really changed all that much, Santana thought, as her eyes scanned over the woman. She had a look on her face, as if she had just been pleasantly surprised, and Santana was somewhat disappointed, but she didn’t entirely know why.

                “Hey Fabray,” she called out eagerly, watching the change on Quinn’s face as she recognized Santana’s voice. She enjoyed it, the sight of Quinn searching for her in the crowd, a smile in place that she was sure Quinn didn’t even realize she was smiling. She felt it, in that moment, this indescribable feeling that grabbed ahold of her, and she didn’t get it, not at first, but then so few of us really do.

                Quinn’s eyes swept over her in a very Fabray way, but instead of being dismissive, they lingered. They beheld her with an expression that Santana definitely knew Quinn didn’t realize that she was putting off. Santana was a bit taken aback by how much she had missed this girl standing in front of her. She raised her hand, as if to caress her face, but stopped when she realized what she was doing. She sought out a way to play it off, and her hand ended up landing on Quinn’s hair, instead of against her skin, the way she wanted it to. She tucked the strand behind her ear, and said the only thing that she could think of, the only thing she hoped was true, “I heard that you and Puck broke up.”

                “Heard you and Brittany got married.”

                _Almost_.

                “Urban legend.”

                A little smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s mouth, and Santana was surprised by the thought that sprouted in her head about how much she just wanted to kiss her. She rocked at the thought. It hadn’t even been two weeks since she was thinking about buying a ring for Brittany. She quickly brushed the thought away.

                Quinn pretty much threw her bag at Santana, and it was all Santana could do to stop the images. Images of all the weekends in the future when Quinn would come home, and Santana would meet her at the station, would reach for her bag absently, while the other hand sought out Quinn’s empty hand. Images of Quinn coming home from a long business trip in the future, of them kissing at the airport, Quinn smiling that smile that Quinn didn’t realize that she smiled for Santana alone.

                Santana gave a usual jibe, a barb just to set things back where they belonged, and Quinn responded like she expected her to: with an eye roll, not taking her seriously. Santana was okay, until they got on the train and they were that close to each other, and then all Santana could see was Quinn. She filled her vision, clouded her senses. Santana was sure that you weren’t supposed to feel this way about people you called your friends, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t resist not touching her any longer, and her hand fell to hold Quinn’s, delighted when Quinn held her back.

 

(Waiting for you)

 

                The first day of Santana’s first astronomy class, had her nervous in ways she wasn’t quite sure she had ever been before. She sat, choosing a seat in the middle of the room, with a blonde haired Asian girl to the right of her, and a black guy with a high top (or was it a fade?) hair do, and clothes that were just as out of date as his hairstyle was, but with surprisingly modern glasses. The slight accent she picked up when he passed her the syllabus suggested that he was from somewhere in Western Africa, Sierra Leone maybe. Whereas before, Santana might have scanned the room to assert that she was, in fact, the hottest bitch in this place, now she was scoping out who would possibly make the best study partners.

                Once the syllabi were passed out, and roll was called, the professor, a guy that looked an awful lot like a more unfortunate Ross Gellar, called for attention.

                “Welcome to the end of the world as you know it,” he started.

                There were nervous chuckles, and one cocky one. The lights were lowered, and a screen turned on. “Warning, this is not for the faint at heart.”

                Santana looked around the lecture hall as the movie started. “This is you.” A man came on the screen and waved. The class laughed. “This is your problem.” The little man frowned, a thought bubble over his head. Vaguely Santana could make out a heart. “This is your home.” The ‘average’ American household came on the screen. “This is your street, this is your block, this is your neighborhood.” Each statement brought the screen further and further back. The man (and his problem) disappeared, but the visual was far from over. “This is your city, this is your state, this is your country, your continent, your Earth.” And the imagery moved further and further away. They were looking at a picture of the Earth, taken from the space station. It circled lazily, the moon briefly coming into view before the camera panned further out. “This is your star, Sol. Sol is made up of nearly 99% of all of the matter in this solar system.” Santana watched as Earth was dwarfed by the size of the sun. “It is not very big.” Betelgeuse, the star that formed Orion’s foot, was compared to Sol. Sol was dwarfed by the size of the sun, which was then dwarfed by the larger stars in the Milky Way, which, in turn, was swallowed by other galaxies.

                She could hear the quiet settling over the room, hear as everyone else slowly got it, too, as it settled over them. That they were merely the cells of the universe. That if the universe were a body, they’d be mere particles that existed.

                But it was also that there was so much, so much life, so much possibility, so many challenges to the very things that made up the universe’s existence. There was so much. For a person with endless questions about life, about love, about existence, the universe was a great thing to get caught up in.

                “This is you,” the voice repeated at the end.

                Santana found herself breathing again only once it was over. The lights came on, and the professor moved to the center of the classroom.

                “Get settled in people,” he said. “Because we’ve got the whole universe to cover, and only one short semester to do it.”

                Santana opened her notebook.

 

                There was so much to fit into her days that sometimes she wondered how she had time to breathe. She looked forward to the weekends, but she didn’t dread the weeks. She was learning just how serious of a student she could be, and how much she was actually starting to enjoy her subjects, and not just her astronomy class, either. Santana had always been a girl in motion, and Physics was just as interesting to her. She even wondered if she should minor in it.

                Her newfound confidence was shaken a little, however, when, as she was standing in front of her class, explaining the conclusion that her group study had come up with, she found the eyes of the TA practically staring through her, a small wrinkle forming between the woman’s very well maintained brows.

                The TA’s eyes followed her, almost without blinking, even after she was done with her part of the presentation and had started back to her seat. When the class ended, and the room emptied, the TA stayed behind, approaching Santana as she started to pack up. “You’re Santana Lopez.”

                Inwardly, Santana cringed. That lead in was never good. Usually it preceded either a reference to her public outing, or the sex tape, neither of which marked a particularly pleasant moment in her life, and she couldn’t help the resentment that flared up, small, but still noticeable, towards Brittany for her hand in that.

                “I am. Can you please tell me why you’ve been mean mugging me for the past half hour.” When that statement was met with a smile, Santana got defensive. “Look, if this is about that sex tape-”

                This statement made the woman’s lip curl up, her eyes brightening with mirth as she so obviously checked Santana out.

                “There’s a sex tape?”

                Santana blushed. “Um…seriously, what was it that you wanted?”

                “I know this is going to sound really weird, but I wanted to say thank you.”

                She had gotten a few of those over the years too. People who had seen her outing, and felt like she was some sort of symbol instead of a girl who had been too stupid to lower her voice in a public hallway. She hadn’t come across too many people outside of Ohio that had known about that, though.

                “For?”

                “You gave my sister water.”

                That she was not expecting. “What?”

                “At a glee competition once. She was nervous because our father was home from being overseas for a year and a half, and he came home, and our mom was sick; it was a really bad time for our family, and you brought her a bottle of water, told her that she didn’t need to sweat the competition because you were totally going to win it, anyway, and that it’s just glee, not life.”

                Santana felt herself coloring, embarrassed. She was so used to the parts of her that was changing, that sometimes she forgot who she used to be. She didn’t recall that exact instance, but that sounded like her. “Look, sometimes I can be a bit of a bitch.”

                “My sis didn’t think that you were. I mean she practically fell in love with you right then. She wouldn’t stop talking about you afterwards, and she completely forgot to worry. They ended up winning second place.”

                “Maggie.”

                The TA was pleasantly surprised. “You remember her?”

                Santana nodded, because after the woman had talked about it, she did remember the girl. “I do.”

                “To be real, she wasn’t all that great of a singer, but _you_ were phenomenal that day.” Santana felt herself getting warm all over. “And don’t listen to anyone who says that you’re a bitch. Bitches don’t give water to lower classmen and fake being tough to try to make their day. I can see from a mile away how big of a heart you have.”

                Santana didn’t know what to do with that. She was used to people insulting her, even her friends mostly gave her back handed compliments, a bi-product of her harsh deliveries and sarcasm, so she didn’t know what to do with a genuine compliment. She decided, though, that she liked it.

                Santana shivered when she felt a finger swipe across her cheek. “I made you blush.” The sudden bass in the TA’s voice made Santana look up into a surprisingly intense gaze staring back at her. “Kind of makes me curious what else I can make you do.”

                Santana’s mouth dropped open slightly, because damn, that was some serious game right there.

                “I’m Josie. For Josephine.”

                “Santana,” Santana stammered.

                “Would you like to get coffee sometime?” Santana felt her head bobbing up and down. _Hell yea._ Josie winked. “Once the semester’s over, it’s a date.”

                Josephine held her gaze for a very long second, before she walked off. 

 

(To bring me in from out the cold)

 

                Santana was a little bit ashamed to admit that Brittany leaving her hadn’t felt like the end of the world this time; she was surprised that it didn’t feel like her world had come crashing down. Not only did the walls stay intact and the floor remained solid beneath her, but her world expanded out, and over, and up. She got back into the habit of talking to Quinn almost daily. She looked forward to opposite weekends because she got to see her in person, and she kind of felt like she was in a divorce agreement with Rachel because since Santana worked most weekends, she wasn’t able to visit Quinn in Cambridge, so Yale weekends belonged to Rachel, and New York weekends belonged to her.

                They fell into each other.

                They called each other routinely. Factimed often. Got offended over calls to voicemail or missed weekends. Sometimes, Santana missed a weekend on purpose. It usually happened when she woke up and found herself missing Quinn, and not even thinking about Brittany. It happened when she realized that she and Quinn acted more like girlfriends (minus the kissing and sex) than best friends. It happened after Santana woke up contemplating if she had feelings for Quinn. She did it so she knew that if she did, she wasn’t alone in them. The amount of crap she got from Quinn, or the sound of barely concealed disappointment in her voice when she said, “Oh, okay,” when Santana said that she had plans in the city that she couldn’t get out of, let Santana know that whatever it was that was happening between them, she wasn’t alone.

                Santana still talked to Brittany frequently, but she couldn’t help the feeling that they were drifting apart, while she and Quinn were moving closer together. She didn’t want to compare the two, but Brittany was a fun time. She knew that Brittany would be there to cheer her up, to make her feel better, to lighten her bad days. Quinn was an intellectual spar partner. They could go toe-to-toe with each other and still not be certain who was the clear winner.

                Quinn was darkness. She wasn’t a portable sun like Brittany was, but Brittany didn’t know how to handle the hard, the unpleasant, the dirt. They each had their histories, their good points and bad. She could never truly be open with Quinn, but she had never entirely been herself with Brittany. But the way she felt when she was with them? She knew that she and Quinn weren’t dating and never would, but the fact that she was spending her Saturday talking about Baroque architecture, or her Sundays attending church at one of the nation’s first cathedral’s, or discussing how the elimination of the chorus completely changed theatre, well…

                “Santana!” Quinn’s voice was sharp and penetrative, and Santana appropriately scowled.

                “Yes?”

                “Are you paying attention?”

                “Hell no, Fabray. Who wastes their time doing this shit?”

                Quinn scowled, and Santana gave her a winning smile until Quinn gave a reluctant one in return.

                Quinn was tentative as they moved through the buildings together, until Santana took her hand after a while, just to change that look on her face. It didn’t take long before Quinn found her voice again.

                And Santana hung on to every word.

                They got back to the loft just in time to run into Rachel and Kurt on their way to _Callbacks_. “Oh, you have to come with us,” Rachel said, knowing that Santana wanted to back out. Santana tried to send her every look in the book, but after living with her, Rachel was no longer intimidated by Santana.

                “We’ve got other plans, Hobbit,” Santana barked.

                “You know, you’re really only a few inches taller than me,” Rachel said, back. She fixed her eyes on Quinn, and Quinn folded like Rachel knew she would. So Santana and Quinn quickly changed into something more club like, and they got dragged along to Berry’s favorite karaoke bar. Quinn hadn’t brought anything suitable, so she had borrowed something from Santana, and the outfit was a mistake, on Santana’s part, because she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Quinn.

                The problem was that Quinn didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off of her, either. Santana had every intention of keeping this platonic relationship just that between them; after all, Quinn was off limits. But it was getting harder and harder to remember that when Quinn was looking so incredibly sexy in what she had on, and she was looking at her the same way she had that night that they’d slept together for the first time, as if she were something Quinn just had to have. Santana tried to keep her libido in check by keeping space between the two of them, by not holding Quinn’s gaze, but it didn’t work. One song ended, and she let the next play, not attempting to pull away because being around Quinn was just so perfect.

                After a few songs went by, she finally pulled away to put some more alcohol in her system. She was standing alone at the bar when she felt someone come up beside her, indecently close. Her heart leapt at the thought of it being Quinn. “You look really good on the dance floor,” was whispered in her ear.

                Santana turned. It wasn’t Quinn, but she welcomed the distraction, her eyes falling on a brunette who was a few inches taller than her, even with her heels. “Please, I look good everywhere.”

                The woman smiled. “Somebody’s cocky.”

                “Not cocky, confident,” Santana corrected. “And you wouldn’t have come over, if that’s not something you like.”

                The woman boldly raked her eyes along Santana’s body. “You’re right. Can I buy you a drink?”

                Santana knocked back the drink she was holding. “After this song’s over,” she said. The woman took the invitation, and pulled Santana out onto the dance floor.

                She was a distraction, but not a good one, because Santana’s eyes still scanned for Quinn. When she found her, it was to see that Quinn was staring in her direction, and the look on her face, was oh so very clear to Santana. She tensed in anticipation, as Quinn stalked over to her, but then she stopped, just stopped, and turned.

                And Santana couldn’t resist anymore. Not when _that_ look was blazing so fiercely in Quinn’s eyes. She went chasing after her, pulling Quinn towards her. The other girl was forgotten as the two of them moved against each other. Santana’s mouth fell against her, and she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her mouth. She was just so hungry for her…Santana couldn’t drag in enough air. She was surprised when Quinn didn’t stop her, when Quinn was urging her forward, maybe Quinn wanted this as much as she wanted her, and damn she really wanted her. It wasn’t until she was pliable beneath her fingers that Santana realized that this was what passion felt like. She never wanted to stop touching Quinn.

                The thought to go slow, to savor what Quinn was giving her because she didn’t know the next time she’d get to be in this position, rose in her mind, but it didn’t last very long. She couldn’t get out of the club quickly enough, she couldn’t stop herself from crossing over neutral space in the cab that they took to the loft (because it was closest, and Santana didn’t think she could wait any longer), and she couldn’t get her key in the lock quick enough, get the door opened soon enough. In her head she was already on the second orgasm when she felt the shift in the room two seconds before she heard Brittany’s voice.

                Seeing Brittany there was like being hit in the face with an ice blue slushie. Quinn apparently felt the same because she moved to put space between their two bodies, the mood clearly spoiled. Quinn awkwardly shifted from one leg to another, before she backtracked out of the apartment. Santana wanted to tell her not to leave, to convince her that somehow Brittany suddenly being there didn’t change anything, but by the time Santana tried to draw her back, she was already gone.

                “Well this is awkward,” Brittany stated, saying the thing that both of them were thinking. Santana was busy trying to pull her mind away from thoughts of Quinn. “How long has that been going on?”

                Santana wiped at her mouth, trying not to remember the taste. It was so different from Brittany’s, and not just in taste. They were different. They were different in so many ways. “It hasn’t,” Santana said, truthfully. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want it to. She dialed Quinn’s number, then dialed it again when she didn’t connect. “Pick up, Q.”

                Brittany seemed bemused. “ _Quinn_ , Santana? You sure do like to play things close to home, don’t you?”

                Santana had a momentary flare up of anger. “Are you telling me that you haven’t with anyone since you left?”

                Brittany reacted to Santana’s heat. “I have, but at least I’m not making my way through my friends,” Brittany snapped.

                “Then who are you making your way through? Your coworkers?”

                Brittany blinked, as if she just realized who she was talking to. “Why are you being so defensive?”

                “I’m not.” Santana sighed as her call once again went to voicemail. “Damn it, Quinn,” she mumbled, “pick up your phone!”

                “Santana,” Brittany questioned. Santana didn’t look up from her phone to see the surprise, then realization flash across Brittany’s face. “Oh,” she said, quietly. It was an ‘oh’ Santana recognized, and she turned around, and faced her.

                “What ‘oh’?”

                “She’s not just a hook-up,” Brittany stated matter-of-factly.

                “She’s not a hook-up at all, Brittany, she’s Quinn.”

                “And who am I?” Brittany questioned.

Santana finally focused her attention on the woman in front of her. Her ex-girlfriend. The woman who would one day be her wife. “You’re Brittany, you know that.”

                “And yet you practically attack me for being here.”

                “I didn’t attack you, but…what are you doing here,” she questioned.

                Brittany shifted on the couch, her eyes fixed on Santana. After a moment’s hesitation, she stood up. “I didn’t know I had to have a reason to come visit.”

                Santana fidgeted with her clothes, still trying to make it look like she and Quinn weren’t about to do what they were about to do. “You don’t, but a little warning would have been nice.”

               “So you wouldn’t get caught sneaking around.”

                “I wasn’t sneaking around. We’re not together.”

                “So that makes us strangers? You don’t even seem like you’re happy to see me.”

                “We were kind of in the middle of something, Brit.”

                “I told you that I’d wait until you guys finished to talk.”

                “Yea, that wouldn’t have been awkward at all,” Santana snapped.

                Brittany cocked her head to the side. “Did I do something? It was a mutual break. Are you mad at me for leaving?”

                Santana sighed, sitting down on the couch. She didn’t think that her feet would hold her up anymore. “No, Britt.”

               “Are we okay?”

                Santana was suddenly nervous. They had left things not really up in the air, they were momentarily broken up, they both agreed that that was the best thing for them, but they were them. Even if they were broken up, they weren’t, not really. She felt guilty, all of a sudden, even though she was sure that Brittany had had one or more partners since the last time they had been in the same city, and she was sure that Brittany hadn’t felt any guilt about it. But then again, none of Brittany’s partners were Quinn.

                “What did you want to talk about, Brit?”

                Brittany looked like she wanted to talk about Quinn, and Santana tried to steel herself for that kind of conversation, one she knew she was nowhere near ready to have.

                 “I got booked for a year-long European tour,” she finally said. Santana imagined being hit with this news after five months of Brittany’s absence if they hadn’t ended things. She could see herself being devastated. As it was, though, she just took the information in stride.

                “Congratulations,” Santana said carefully.

                “We’re leaving the first of the year, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me.”

                “I can’t just chase after you for another year, Britt, we’ve talked about this.”

                Brittany nodded. “We did. That’s why I came back to talk to you about it.” Brittany suddenly seemed nervous, and that caused a lump to form in Santana’s own throat. “I couldn’t believe the offer, and I realized that there’s only one reason for me not to take it.”

                “And what’s that?” Santana wondered, staring down at her hands. Was Brittany about to tell her that she found someone? Was Santana prepared to hear that news?

                “You.”

                Slowly, Santana’s head rose. Brittany came and kneeled in front of her. “If you ask me to stay, to move back to New York, I will.”

                “I- I can’t do that, Brittany.”

               She thought about the way a smile would break across Brittany’s face when you surprised her with her favorite candy, movie, or really anything, because it didn’t take much. She was so easy. Her face was anything but that at the moment, though. “Because of Quinn?”

                “No. This is your dream, Britt, and I can’t stand in front of your dream. I can’t be that selfish. Love doesn’t do that.”

                “Love is completely selfish,” Brittany said. “It’s you laying complete and total claim to someone else. It’s ownership. It’s saying that I want no one else to be able to be with or have this person forever. That’s the ultimate selfish act. I’m giving you permission to be selfish,” Brittany said. Her look changed, suddenly. “Unless it’s not me you want to be selfish with.”

                Santana looked towards the door. High school Santana, the girl that had oh so easily convinced Brittany that whatever they did in the bed was nothing but friendship, would have demanded that Brittany stay. Senior year Santana, the one that was going to stay in Lima because Brittany wasn’t going to graduate, would have told Brittany, now, that their relationship wouldn’t last if Brittany didn’t stay in New York. Kentucky Santana, would have told Brittany that in order for them to be together, they had to be together, and long distance would only set them apart. But those Santana’s weren’t the ones that were sitting in front of Brittany right now. She turned back, making eye contact with Brittany. “I don’t want to be that person. I’m not going to be the one to stand in your dreams, that’s not love to me, and right now neither of us seem to be in a place where we are supposed to be together. Dance is your passion; you would be miserable back here.”

                “Not if I had you.”

                It sounded so convincing, but that didn’t make it true. “Yes, you would. Life isn’t just about one person, it’s not just about one thing. Right now New York is where I need to be, and right now, anywhere but New York is where you are supposed to be. Fighting against that would be trying to fight against gravity, and that just means we’re in for a lot of hurt when we finally fall. This doesn’t mean that you and I aren’t supposed to be together, it just means we’re not supposed to be together right now. Life is pushing us in completely different directions right now, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t be different down the road.”

                Brittany blinked back tears. “Yeah, who knows?”

                “You’re the one who is always telling me that you have to listen when the universe is trying to tell you something. I have to find, Quinn. You know how she is when she thinks that…,”

                “I know,” Brittany acquiesced.

 

(You’ll never know the endless nights)

 

                Santana chased her footsteps to the places that she knew Quinn liked in New York. She wasn’t answering her phone, and Santana was getting really upset. What if something had happened to her? When the hours passed, and Quinn didn’t come back, Santana started to get really worried. Then panicked. Had something happened to her? Had she gone back to Yale, early? That seemed most likely.

                When Santana _just_ managed to make it on the last train out, she thought it was a stroke of luck.

                Until she got to Connecticut and realized that Quinn was back in New York. 

                As she stood, alone, in the middle of the crowded subway station, her own words came back to her. _You have to listen when the universe is trying to tell you something._ Santana tilted her head backwards to look up at the ceiling, blinking back a tear. “I hear you,” she said, softly, allowing herself to get lost in the crowd.

 

(The Rhyming of the Rain)

 

                One of the first cluster of stars that Santana learned to recognize were the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters. They had gazed down upon her as she had gazed up at them when she had first realized where her future lay, and she felt like they were the sisters she never had, a fortress of women there to protect her and guide her, to show her the way, to keep her from getting lost. Like the Swastika, the Pleiades had been around for centuries, and she could imagine little girls and old men, from the beginning of time to the end, staring up at the seven sisters and charting their path by them. They were so prominent

in the sky that she could see them even in New York, and learned to recognize them by name and sight.

                Earthwise, her sisterhood was a group of people not Glee related, that she met inside the classroom, and through a couple of her clubs. The brightest burning stars among her new friends and associates were Sylvia Johannes, Julia Gonzalez, and Evelyn Perez. She and Julia had Calculus II together, Evelyn she met through the QSA, and Sylvia she met in her Chicano studies class.

                Sylvia was straight-ish, Julie was bi, and Evelyn was a gold star lady lover who had a different girlfriend every year, and fell hard for each and every one of them. Sylvia and Evie were both very politically involved, and would get into conversations, often, about feminism and intersectionality. Evelyn didn’t think that WOC had any business aligning with the feminist movement, Sylvia didn’t consider herself to be a feminist, but disagreed about WOC having a place in the broader movement. They talked about the role of police in the community. They talked about if it was better to break away from negative family members or sit through painful dinners and reunions, until death do you part. Whether you should leave small towns versus staying to fight.

                Julia was quiet, an observer. Like Santana, she was an only child and grew up in a small town where her family was one of the few Hispanic families there. Her mother was a domestic, and her father followed the crops and was often not physically present. She was an engineering student, and she and Santana spent hours together studying physics and their maths. Julia was the only member of her family to have gone to college. Evelyn’s father was a 5th grade teacher, and her mother was a plumber. She was one of five children, and dead in the center. Sylvia’s parents, like Santana’s, were professionals, and she had never known what it meant to want. Not for love, not for affection, not for material things. Her brother was a year older than her, and went to their school as well. Julia spoke Spanish fluently, Evie had learned it in high school, and Sylvia didn’t know Spanish at all, and didn’t care to learn. Julia was Mexican, Evie Puerto Rican, and Sylvia was half Columbian, half Domincan.

                In appearance, they were all different shades of the color spectrum. They all had different backgrounds, they all had different perspectives, different aspirations, different goals, but that was the point. They weren’t stereotypes. They weren’t flat, 2-D characters. They meshed on a functionality level. She wasn’t the queer girl because they were all queer. She wasn’t the Latina because they were all Hispanic. It was a connection that she didn’t even know she needed, until she had it in front of her.

                Living in Lima, Ohio, had not exactly been the most nourishing environment for Santana. Diversity wasn’t its strong point; actually it was pretty near the exact opposite of that. Even though her group of friends had been pretty diverse, the cultures that she had been immersed in had been pretty much Anglo-centric. Brittany was the ideal, Quinn was ‘traditional’, Finn, but not Matt, was the boy next door. These terms, and phrases such as ‘good, clean, wholesome American’ were words that were used to describe a very specific demographic. They were meant to normalize European culture and shaped everything else as the other. They didn’t even teach Mexican history, despite Mexico owning half of the United States at one point, and Hispanics being the biggest minority in America.

                She loved Quinn, and she loved Brittany, and she loved her other Glee members, but she enjoyed the opportunity to not be the ‘other’; to get the chance to be herself, and explore what that meant, and she did, every chance she got. Santana was finally getting the opportunity to discover who she was as her own person, and she was enjoying the experience tremendously. It’s a beautiful thing, finding out who you are, and loving yourself because of it.

                She kept her growing knowledge and awareness to herself, though, whenever it came to the Glee kids. She could confidently stand in front of her class and show her computations for the distance between Merope and Electra using the extragalactic distance scale with the same confidence that she had once strutted through the halls of McKinley, but remained silently about such things on Sunday dinner with her ‘family’. Despite the confidence she was achieving, she feared that her old friends wouldn’t like the woman she was becoming, so she kept it to herself, feeling almost as if she was disappearing into a different kind of closest as she did so.

                She wondered if this was what her mother meant, about outgrowing old relationships, and not carrying them into the future.

               

(Or how it feels to fall behind)

                The first time it happened, Santana wasn’t paying attention. Neither of them had been very serious about anyone since Puck and Brittany respectively, so when Quinn first mentioned running into a guy on the train, Santana dismissed it. After all, what’s one meeting? What were the odds that they’d meet again?

                The second time Quinn mentioned the guy, it barely even registered that it was the same guy Quinn mentioned before.

                The third time he was mentioned, he had a name, and a place in Quinn’s life.

                At first it was just the briefest of mentions, “I ran into that guy again on the train. You know that one that I had coffee with when, you know?”

                “That guy, you know the one I mentioned, he was reading that book. He said it was good.”

                “Kelly sat beside me on the train. We didn’t talk much.”

                It was all just background static to Santana until it wasn’t.

                “Kelly and I are going out this weekend.”

                That was when Santana started listening.

                “Who is that?”

                “The guy from the train.”

                “Guy? Kelly, _his_ name is Kelly?”

                It dawned on her, that Quinn was quietly falling for someone and she hadn’t even been paying attention. How could Quinn be falling for someone when the two of them were…were what? Were dating? Were in love? They weren’t…but then, what were they? And how could Quinn commit to a date before they had the chance to figure out?

                Santana got on a train without thought, and as it moved closer to Quinn, she didn’t know what she intended to do. But when Quinn answered the door, she knew the exact reason she had gotten on that train, and it wasn’t to give Quinn her blessing.

                She couldn’t honestly say she had a thought in her mind when her lips touched Quinn’s other than to do that exact thing.

                The last article of clothing had been removed and thrown haphazardly on the floor, when Quinn suddenly drew away. Santana grasped feebly for the girl, and Quinn smiled, coming back to give her a quick kiss before she drew further away, going to her desk to reach her phone. Santana followed, hands going around her waist, lips going to her neck. Quinn laughed lightly. “Stop,” she said, smiling. Santana didn’t. She kissed on Quinn’s back, leaning close to see over her shoulder, as Quinn fumbled with her phone. Santana watched her go through her contacts, typing in T-R-A before the prediction software settled on ‘Train Guy’, and Santana snorted as Quinn pressed Call. Quinn didn’t have a long wait.

                “Hey, Kellen, hi, it’s Quinn. I’m,” she slapped Santana’s hand that was now inching up her stomach. “I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel. Something came up.”

                “Like your nipples,” Santana whispered in her unoccupied ear before snipping at it. Quinn shifted slightly away, appearing to be trying very hard to listen. “No, my friend Santana unexpectedly came to town.”

                Quinn squirmed beneath Santana’s questing fingers. “Sorry,” she said again. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

                Once Quinn was off the phone, Santana paused. “He’s in your phone as ‘Train Guy’?” Santana questioned as she cupped Quinn’s breasts. Quinn turned, and slid her arms around Santana’s neck, seconds from drawing her into a kiss.

                Quinn gave her a smirk. “Shut up.”

                She moaned as Santana’s hands seemed to find a particularly sensitive spot. “Gladly. As long as you don’t.”

                Santana wasn’t a literature person, but Quinn’s body was like that book she never wanted to stop reading. Just when she thought that she knew which way the story was going, there was an unexpected twist, the road opened up, a new turn happened, or she was thrown for a loop, and she had no idea what was going on. She hurried up, and she took her time, and they both ignored the fact that they were doing far more making love than they were having sex, especially when they were depleted and were just lying in each other’s arms.

                “So,” Quinn said to the room.

                “So,” Santana questioned, back.

                “I was going to at least get dinner out of this night.”

                “Yeah?”

                Quinn nodded. “And a movie. Maybe even a good night kiss.”

                Santana kissed her on her collar bone. “Yeah?” Quinn nodded again. “Would you like dinner and a movie?”

                Quinn seemed about to nod, but stopped herself. “Santana?”

                “Yes?”

                “What is this?”

                Santana rested her chin on Quinn’s stomach, looking up at her. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She didn’t know. She wasn’t being coy, or difficult, or playing hard to get, she simply didn’t _know._ Being with Quinn felt so right sometimes. The now always felt so good with her, but she didn’t know if that would transfer into the future. She didn’t know if they could be a viable match together, and while Santana didn’t necessarily _have_ to know what the future would bring to be able to appreciate right now, that uncertainty wasn’t enough for Santana concerning her friend. Another girl, sure, but she was too close to Quinn to have a relationship with, just to realize she’d made a bad decision three months down the line.

                “Was you coming here, just about a pissing contest?”

                “What? No, it’s…” She could describe it in astrological terms; she felt this gravitational pull, this mammalian connection to Quinn, but she didn’t _know_.

                “I like Kelly, and if this isn’t anything other than a hook-up every couple of months then,” she didn’t finish her statement, and Santana was glad for it; she didn’t have anything immediately to say.

                And…there was that tiny nagging in the back of her head. The one that said that although Quinn asserted that she was fine without a man, like Rachel, she needed that leading man in her life. She didn’t want to get in deep with Quinn, only to find out that what Quinn needed was something that she could never supply.

                “Santana?”

                Santana traced circles on her stomach. “Sorry, about your date. I just came down here to help you get ready, be a good ‘girl friend’, you know like we were in high school, but then when I saw you again, I couldn’t help thinking about how much I just want to fuck you. You’re so fucking gorgeous Q. And I just wanted you to know that.” 

 

(And watch you call her name)

                Santana wondered, if the big bang had truly happened (it is a _theory_ after all), what it must have been like, for the galaxy. One moment, you’re at rest, in a steady state, small, stagnant, unimpressive nothingness. Then suddenly, the whole universe opens up to you. Suddenly there’s color, there’s definition, there’s energy. As all the energy in existence spreads out to every reach and every corner, curve, or whatever defines the outer limits of the universe, the basic building blocks are formed, created through destruction, through the transfer of energy.

                Santana imagines that the Big Bang is what a heart attack might feel like.

                Or what it feels like to fall in love.

                As of that moment, Santana had fallen in love once, to Brittany. Because it was new, because it was an awakening, because it was high school, Santana imagined it was forever. She had conditioned herself to believe that love was a one-time thing, but her mother was right. There would be other loves in her life, and other heartbreaks. But before there was any of that, there was a big bang.

                Literally.

                Santana was just coming out of her academic advisor’s office, after choosing her classes for her final semester of undergrad, when she collided with another random cluster of cells, that turned out to not be so random after all.

                “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Santana said, as books fell crashing to the floor.

                “I didn’t see you-,”

                They both bent to pick up books and notebooks, when their eyes met. A pen slipped from Santana’s hand. Santana reached for it, only to drop the book she was carrying. Blushing profusely, she kind of shoved the contents of her hands to the other girl, who simply seemed amused. “Oh, hi.”

                Josie laughed at her. “Hi.”

                “I’m,”

                “Santana, yes, I remember.”

                “Josie!” Santana yelled, suddenly, stupidly. “You’re Josie!”

                A look passed over Josie’s face, and Santana thought she would die of embarrassment. “yes. I am Josie.”

                “You’re not my TA anymore.”

                The look straightened out into amusement. Josie was looking at her the way a mother would look at a child that had aced their spelling test. _That_ was not the way that Santana wanted to be looked at by a woman. Not at all. “No, I’m not,” she agreed. The look morphed, suddenly, into appalled. “But I am late. Hence,” she saved her arms about. She took the pen out of Santana’s hand, and wrote a series of numbers on her palm. “I do believe you owe me a warm beverage.”

                With a brief kiss to her palm, Josie was off down the hall, and Santana was floored. And…apparently minus a note book. Santana looked down at the numbers written on her palm, and groaned when she realized that it wasn’t a phone number that Josie had written down.

                It took Santana two weeks to work out that it was the address to the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space museum.

                Apparently, Josie was a tour guide there on the weekends. As a child she had been a model builder, and she’d never really outgrew that hobby. They toured the USS Intrepid, and they talked about big ships that propelled their way through the oceans, and Santana talked about the energy it took to propel a projectile through the sky. They then proceeded to have a contest on who could propel a paper air balloon the highest in the sky using every day products. Josie won.

               

(We sit in bars and raise our drinks)

 

                “Josie, her name is Josie? Like as in the Pussycats?”

                Santana smiled. “It’s short for Josephine.”

                With a smirk and intentional symmetry, Quinn said, “I don’t like it, Santana. What do we even know about her?”

                Santana made a list.

                Josie was 26.

                She had worked her way through undergrad, and did two years with the Corps of Engineers for experience before starting her masters.

                Her first language was Korean.

                She is ambidextrous, and can write in Spanish in one hand and English in the other at the same time.

                She cannot, however, pat her head and rub her stomach.

                She’s afraid of clowns, baby kangaroos, and wind chimes. In that order.

                She drinks a glass of red wine a day so she doesn’t have to go to the gym.

                She goes to the gym anyway.

                She can recite the entire alphabet in four seconds. Backwards.

                She once had braces and still laughs without showing her teeth out of habit.

                She can tie a cherry stem with her tongue.

                She only scored a 900 on her SATS (back when it was out of 1600), and never took the test again.

                She loves to sing while cooking, cleaning, and in the shower.

                She’s tone deaf.

                She unflinchingly believes in aliens and may or may not have met one at 3:00 a.m. one Thursday morning in December.

                She’s never watched a single Star Wars movie.

                She likes gelato over ice cream.

                She hates tomatoes and won’t eat them, even on pizza.

                She’s never been to Times Square.

                She plays classical music when she has sex.

                Chopin makes her climax fastest. Rachmaninov makes her climax hardest.

                Everyday, it seemed, it was something new. Santana hadn’t kept Josie from Quinn, but they had both been pretty busy with school, and life, and this was the first time in months that they’d gotten together.

                Santana knew that Quinn expected Josie to be another of Santana’s three month specials, but that wasn’t the case.

                Three months passed, then four. Josie slipped into her life, without warning, and for the first time in a very long time, Santana felt complete. She had a very clear direction for her life, she had a wonderful bouquet of friends, and she had a great girlfriend. An adult girlfriend, one that challenged her, and pushed her, and supported her. Although she and Brittany were able to get back to being bet friends, she was slowly realizing that she was developing a different world view than Quinn.

                It was easy not to notice it in high school, harder to ignore as adults. She noticed it, when she invited Quinn out to eat lunch with Sylvia, Julia, and Evie, and she could tell that Quinn was not very comfortable. She noticed it when Quinn argued that there was no room in her packed schedule to take a Chicano studies class. They didn’t talk about non pop culture current events, they didn’t talk about political things, there was always the slightest bit of hesitation, when Santana invited her theatre major best friend, to a play that had a more diverse cast, or when Santana wanted to try a new restaurant outside of Quinn’s New York comfort zone.

                Santana saw Kelly as merely another Biff. Quinn seemed to go after a specific prototype: white, parentally acceptable (except Puck), good hair (except Joe). She seemed to want to be a trophy wife with that white picket fence which, there was nothing wrong with that. Santana wanted that too. Not to be the trophy wife, but to have a nice house, with a perfect, manicured lawn, and 2.5 children running around and playing in it. But her neighbors didn’t have to look exactly like her, or think exactly like her. Santana hated the idea that Quinn’s ideal didn’t have too many people like Santana in it…even though she knew it was most likely true.

                So even though Quinn didn’t seem really eager to bring Kelly around, Santana wasn’t that anxious to meet him, either.

                The relationship had already lasted longer than Santana expected it to when she got the text from Quinn, ‘ _Kelly wants to meet ‘the guys’._ Santana could tell by the wording that it was a group message, but the ‘Please be nice’ that lit up her phone a few seconds later, was just for her.

                They, all of the New Yorkers, Josie, Santana, and Quinn, met at the loft, because it was the largest place any of them had, and Berry would have been an idiot to give the place up. There was some vegan dishes in an attempt to seem sophisticated, and wine, and liquor. Santana could tell that Quinn had purposely drawn him to this part of her life, as a sort of take me as I am kind of gesture, but Kelly didn’t seem to be terrified the same way Biff was.

                Kelly was…all the things that Santana expected in a boyfriend of Quinn’s, and some things that she wasn’t. Like his hair was just on the opposite side of acceptable, but just by a little bit. He was pretty funny, too, his jokes were slightly better than corny, and he was protective of Quinn, without being possessive. One of the things she had hated the most about Biff was how he treated Quinn as if he belonged to her. Finn, too, had acted that way.

                “So Josie,” Kelly slurred.

                “So, Kellen,” she mocked. Santana rested her head on Josie’s shoulder smiling into it. Josie turned slightly and their lips brushed together. “Yes?”

                “Who would you rather be trapped on a desert island with? Jennifer Tilly, Fran Dresher or Roseanne Barr?”

                Josie laughed loudly. “I happen to actually _like_ the way Fran Dresher sounds, and if I’m stranded with Tilly, at least I know she’ll go down.”

                “That’s my girl!” Santana boasted, slapping hands with her girlfriend.

                “Who would you rather be stuck on an island with?” And it continued. Hanging out with her old high school friends, always filled her with contentment and a little regret, regret that it had taken her this long to get to enjoy their company.

                In the middle of the evening, Santana excused herself to smoke a cigarette out on the fire escape. She didn’t smoke all that often, but she still smoked one every now and then. She wasn’t surprised when the window opened, and a body started to make its way to join her, but she was surprised by the person.

                “Got another one?” Kelly asked.

                Santana eyed him suspiciously. “You smoke?”

                He laughed. “No, but when in Rome, you know. ‘Sides it gives me an excuse.”

                “For what?”

                “I thought we could get ‘the talk’ out the way.”

                Santana tilted her head. “You sure you want to do that? I can be quite vicious.”

                He stood his ground. “I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it.”

                She put out the cigarette, shrugging cavalier. “Your funeral.”

                Kelly leaned up against the rail. Santana took in him, and his posture, stopping at his bracelet. “Is this thing casual between you two?”

                “I don’t think so.”

                “So you’re legit?”

                “I am.”

                “Are you an ax murderer?”

                “I’ve never used an ax, no.”

                “Are you a stalker?”

                “No.”

                “What skeleton’s do you have in your closet?”

                Kelly shrugged. “You know, I’m pretty clean.”

                “That just means you’ve never been caught.”

                “No, I’ve been caught. A couple of times. I burned my dad’s work bench because I was angry at him. I almost drowned my best friend in our row boat; he’s fine now, and we’re still friends. I cut my sister’s hair off before her senior pictures because she put itching powder in my jock right before my first date.”

                “You cut off your sister’s hair?” Kelly nodded. “Damn, that’s vicious.”

                “I don’t think that she’s forgiven me for that one yet, to be honest.”

                “I would have castrated you.”

                “Oh, trust me, she wanted to.”

                Santana cocked her head to the side, curiously. “I might have to look out for you.”

                “Nah, I’m harmless. That was all kid stuff. I’m a man now.”

                “You know that statement means absolutely nothing to me, right?”

                Kelly shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

                “Where do you see things going with you and Quinn?”

                He shifted, but not like he was uncomfortable with the question, Santana noted. “Well, that’s a question, isn’t it? I see things going as far as Quinn wants them to go.”

                “Are you in love with Quinn?”

                Kelly crossed his arms, meeting Santana’s gaze head on. “Are you?”

                 The question totally took Santana by surprise. She was the first to blink. “Are you asking me that because I’m gay and she’s my best friend because a person can be gay and friends with the same sex without having sex.” So she’d heard, anyway.

                “No, I’m asking you because I want to know what I’m up against, and what I’m getting myself into. Are you?”

                Santana gave the question the thought Kelly intended. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I love Quinn, but I’m in love with Josie. And it’s not like I’m with one in absence of the other, I love Josie, I love being in love with Josie.”

                “And if you no longer had her in your life?”

                Santana found a little smile teasing her lips. “I’d be dead,” she said seriously, “because Josie’s it for me.” Santana brought her gaze back to the present.  

                “I think me too,” Kellen replied.

                They crawled back into the loft, and their entrance was not missed. “Hey, great, you’re back!” Rachel had a glass in her hand, and held it up. “I’d like to make a toast! To us, may we always stay together.”

                Quinn’s eyes met her gaze questioningly before she tossed her drink back and settled on Kellen. Santana tilted her head in Quinn’s direction, before taking a sip of the drink that was pushed into her hands.

 

                Josie swayed to music only she heard as they made their way back to their apartment. She wasn’t drunk, Santana knew, just riding the high that being out with a group of people and enjoying herself gave her. Once inside, she started shedding clothes on her way to the bedroom. Santana smiled, picking up the clothes as she went, detouring in the kitchen to get her girlfriend a bottle of water. Josie was already in her night clothes and tucked comfortably in the bed, book in her hands, by the time Santana reached the room.

                She looked up as Santana walked through the doorway. “I liked him, didn’t you?”

                Santana nodded. “Surprisingly.” Santana couldn’t shake their conversation, though. “Hey, Joze?”

                “Yea?”

                Santana collapsed on the bed beside her. “Kelly asked me if I was in love with Quinn, so I was like wondering…do I like give off vibes that I’m in love with her or something?”

                Josephine looked at her over her book, lowering it onto her lap. Josie was less emotional, more practical than Santana herself was. She looked at things head on, and didn’t spend too much time in speculation. “You guys are close. I mean certainly closer than some people might be comfortable with, knowing you’ve slept together.”

                “Are you uncomfortable with it?” Santana questioned seriously.

                “I’m not that insecure. I know she’s your friend.”

                “But I,” Santana frowned. “I don’t want you to feel as if you are not secure in this relationship, because you are, and if you’ve ever felt otherwise-,”

                “Santana?” Santana halted her words. “I do.”

                “Are you friends with any of your exes?”

                “A couple.” She chuckled, joking. “It’s like a lesbian thing.”

                “Quinn’s not really an ex,” Santana realized. “We’ve slept together a couple of times, but we never had a relationship.”

                “Why is that?”

                Santana shrugged. “Quinn doesn’t see me that way? I don’t see her that way? Our friendship is really important to me, and not worth losing over a failed relationship. And it would be a failed relationship. Quinn and I are too much alike to work, and I don’t-,” Santana stopped short of saying that she didn’t like her that way. Because she could. If Santana knew that there was a chance of it working-well if she knew before she started a relationship with Josie, anyway-

                “Are you in love with Quinn?” Josie questioned.

                “I love her, but it’s only that. You know I wouldn’t cheat on you, right?”

                “I know you wouldn’t cheat on me on purpose,” Josie responded. Santana felt herself pull back a little at that. 

                “I’d never-,”

                “Never is a bigger concept than humans can full grasp,” Josie said. “Like I said, you wouldn’t do it intentionally, but we’re all human, biological creatures, and we make mistakes, and we do things that we don’t think we’d ever do.”

                Santana lay back and thought about it. After a while, Josie picked her book back up. Santana took a peak at the cover, but otherwise retreated back into her own thoughts.

                “Maybe what you’re struggling over right now is the fact that you two _didn’t_ date.” Santana looked over at her girlfriend. “Both you and Quinn have been casually dating other people this whole time, right?”

                “I have, but Quinn hasn’t.”

                “In three years?”

                “I mean, she’s gone on dates, or whatever, but nothing serious.”

                “Is she waiting for you?”

                “More like she’s more into her books and schooling than anything else. But what were you saying?”

                “That now that you’re both in semi-serious relationships-,”

                “Serious relationships,” Santana said pointedly. “Not semi.”

                “You’re wondering if you missed out on something.”

                “I’m not wondering anything. Kelly asked the question-,”

                 “And it’s been bothering you, right?”

                Santana gave a reluctant nod. “You know as well as I do, about energy, force and exertion. There are people we are pulled to,” Josie said, reasonably. “For whatever reason. There’s history there with you and Quinn, and I understand that. Just…if you do think that you _might_ sleep with her, I’d appreciate the forewarning-”

                Santana scoffed. “So if I just came up to you and said, “Josie, is it okay if I fuck Quinn,” you’d be okay with that?”

                Josie sat in quiet contemplation. “If you felt the need to.”

                Santana studied her partner, the woman in front of her, trying to see if this was some joke or trap that she was being set up for. Josie smiled, correctly reading her mind. “It’s not a trap, Santana. If you need to sleep with Quinn, you have my permission to sleep with her.”

                Santana sat up on her knees, derisive smile curling on her lips. “Really?”

                Josie gave her a sideways grin, that no matter how hard she tried, Santana couldn’t see around. “Really, Santana. We’re both intelligent women. We fell into each other’s arms and into each other’s beds before we ever said I love you.”

                “We,”

                Josie held up a finger, cutting her off. “Before you finish your thought, let me finish mine, please? I like you, Santana, but I haven’t really allowed myself to contemplate just how much I like you since things are so vague with us,” Santana tried to protest, but Josie wouldn’t let her. “I can see a future with you, but only if you can see one with me, too.”

                “I-,”

                She was again stopped, this time with Josie’s lips. “You have my full and complete permission to sleep with your friend, but if you do,”

                A firm hand pushed Santana back against the bed. Gently Josie parted her legs, hooking a finger into the waistband of Santana’s underwear, and pulled down. “I want you to think about this tongue, working you into complete submission.” She trailed her fingers slowly down Santana’s exposed flesh, lightly touching skin. “And these fingers,” Santana’s eyes watched her, and her legs trembled slightly just from the sound of her voice. They sank into her. “I want you to think about them inside of you. And I want you to think about my smell as you come.”

                It was the first time Santana climaxed without any physical stimulation.

                Coincidentally, it was also the first time Josie ever came close to dirty talk.

                And she did have sex with Quinn.

                There was no reason for it that she could justify to herself, other than she had told herself it wasn’t cheating, because her girlfriend had told her it was okay. And she realized that she _did_ need it. Not because Josie told her she did, or because Josie wasn’t enough, or because she was in love with Quinn, but because she needed to say good-bye. Because if she didn’t, she would always wonder.

                Santana _could_ see herself drowning in Quinn, but as their eyes met, and they both sought different things, Santana saw Quinn detach herself from everything that Santana was. From the first kiss, to the end, it was different, it felt different. The previous time they’d had sex, there was no question there was love there. But this, this felt like a good-bye.

                Santana didn’t want to spend the night, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave until the morning. She knew the moment Quinn shifted from sleep to being awake. She waited for Quinn to open her eyes, but she didn’t. She was glad, thankful for that, because she didn’t think it would be so easy to do this, if she had.    

 

(To Getting Old)

                Santana and Josie celebrated their year anniversary, then their two, and three. Josie talked in terms of future, and that didn’t scare her at all. Josie finished her PH.D. the same year that Santana finished her Master’s and they talked about the places that they would go after. 

                “Anywhere in the world?” Santana questioned skeptically, as her eyes slowly inched down the list of schools with the best Post doctorate program.”

                They had just finished eating dinner, and were sitting down with a shared bowl of ice cream.

                “Well, not anywhere in the world, but anywhere in the United States.”

                “Anywhere?”

                Josie laughed, and nodded. “I want you to go where you want; where you think you’ll thrive the best.”

                Santana got shy in the way that she only felt with her girlfriend. “And you’ll come, too, right?”

                Josie rolled her eyes and smiled. “Duh.”

                It was such an easy thing, being in love with Josie. If Santana had known just how easy she might have fallen sooner. When they talked about moving in together, at first Santana was worried, hesitant, but when they finally took that plunge it was such a natural thing that Santana didn’t understand why she had ever had any trouble with it in the first place.

                Josie with a caretaker and Santana found that she didn’t mind being taken care of. Josie cooked, she packed lunch, she kept Santana organized and on time. Santana always had her gas tank at least half full. Josie made the bed every morning, something Santana only did when her mom made her, but in turn she did most of the cleaning. Josie picked up the odds and ends, Santana did the scrubbing, the vacuuming, the dishes, especially because Josie hated to do them.

                There wasn’t much money since they were both students, Santana working on her bachelor’s, then her master’s, Josie working towards her Ph.D. Gifts to each other were rare, but well thought out and meaningful. Date night most often consisted of a Redbox rental or Netflix show, and a meal cheaply made, but with love. Santana had never been so broke in her life, but found that she didn’t mind. She loved the life they were making together.

                Whoever said that high school was the best years of your life was clearly lying. Santana loved college, she loved being an adult, she loved 3 am trips to Duane Reade to pick up toilet paper simply because she could do it, because she didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to do so. She loved discovering who she was, and sometimes she wished she wasn’t in a relationship so she could completely go on a mission of self-discovery without worrying about a lover. She was learning things about herself, almost as if the addition of knowledge to her base required her to further expand knowledge of self and surroundings.

                Josie proposed the day that she committed to school in Hawaii. The band wasn’t gold and the stone wasn’t a diamond. The stone was mozzanite, the real stuff that came from an actual meteor, and the band was made from tungsten. It couldn’t have been more perfect than if Santana had picked the ring out herself. They didn’t set a date, but Santana didn’t expect to have a long engagement. She didn’t want one, either. She was ready to get started on her future with Josephine.

                It wasn’t until Santana was nearly halfway into moving to Hawaii that she had even once thought about Quinn.

 

(Oh I’m in love with you)

 

                  It rained, the day their plane touched down. They stayed in guest housing on campus until they could find a place which, surprisingly, didn’t take that long at all. Their home was an old shack, painted blue. There were avocado, orange, lime, lemon and banana trees growing in the front yard. It had a lot of potential, but was in need of a lot more repair work than there was potential. Even still, even with unintentional hardwood floors, the unplanned skylight, and with millipedes on the wall, sand constantly blowing in, and chickens in the backyard, it was costing them $3,000 a month to rent. The landlord said that he’d knock 10% off a month if they volunteered with the repairs. Josie eagerly accepted the challenge, and Santana joined in because this was the future they were building together.

                Josie was the one to suggest, then construct herself, a hammock out back so Santana could have a spot to look up at the stars. Sometimes Josie joined her out there; sometimes she ended up falling asleep by herself, underneath the stars. When she did, she’d wake up drizzled in the morning dew, sometimes one of the chickens resting beneath her, often with a blanket that hadn’t been there the night before covering her.

                They explored their Island together. They walked the beaches, they viewed the volcanos, they hiked, they spelunked, they snorkeled. Mauna Kea was the world’s tallest mountain. The observatory, was considered one of the best in the world. Josie would spend hours of her free time attempting to find out everything that there was to find out about the mountains and their island, and Santana delved head first into her PH.D. She became friendly with the Hawaiians, learning their customs and traditions. The observatory, she learned, was international, but a local matter of contention because it was on sacred ground. Mauna Kea was like the Greek’s Olympus, a resting place of the gods.

                Santana honestly didn’t know what she loved more, finding herself and settling into this new climate, what she was doing and learning as she got ever closer to her PH’D, or Josie. She loved her job, her students, her classes, but she _loved_ Josie. 

 

(And you will never know)

 

                Santana didn’t see the car when she pulled down the long drive to their little cabin, so she was surprised when she heard a throat clearing once she’d gotten out of her own car. She spun around, a flash of red the first thing she saw.

                “Shit, Kelly, you scared me! What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Where’s Quinn.”

                He stood up from where he had been sitting on the front steps, joints cracking as he stretched. He seemed nervous and edgy, and it worried Santana for a moment. She irrationally freaked for a moment when he reached into his pocket, her heart only settling when he pulled out a box. It was unmistakable what it was. Kellen thumbed it open.

                Santana let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m flattered, Kelly, but,” she wiggled her fingers. “I’m kind of taken.”

                “It’s not for you,” Kellen said, licking his lips. “It’s for Quinn.”

                “If you came out here to ask me if she’ll approve of the ring, you wasted the plane ticket, you could have Skyped me for that.”

                He ran in his fingers through his hair. “That’s not why I’m here.”

                Santana shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The heels she wore had been a mistake, and all her mind could focus on was getting out of these shoes. “Then why are you here?” The answer to the question hit her almost as soon as she asked. “If you’re here to ask for my permission, one, don’t let Quinn know you ever did that, and two, I’m not Russell.”

                “I’m not here for your permission, either. I want to spend the rest of my life with Quinn.”

                “Er…congratulations?”

                “What I mean is, if you…if you have any residual feelings, if you are unsure in anyway, if you still feel you have designs on Quinn, I need to know right now, before I do this.”

                “You flew all the way to Hawaii so I could give you a way out?”

                Kelly shook his head. “No. I don’t want a way out. Like I said, I want to spend the rest of my life with Quinn.” He looked down at the ring, and smiled a little smile. “I love her.” He was frowning when he looked up. “I’m no fool, Santana. I know Quinn and I only connected, because she missed you. I know you fucked her before our first date, and again after you and I met. I know there’s something there between you two, something that maybe you guys haven’t figured out yet. Quinn doesn’t realize just how much she loves you, and if you love her-,”

                Santana shifted again, and was close to saying fuck it, and kicking off her shoes. “I have to stop you right there, Kelly. I’m sorry about that. About Quinn cheating with me. But that was a good-bye, it was nothing more than a good-bye, so the both of us could clear the air of whatever it was between us, and commit. I love Quinn, but I’m not in love with her. The woman I’m in love with will be home in about an hour, and I would like to have dinner waiting for her when she gets here.”

                Kellen studied her, his eyes trying to divine something from Santana’s, and she didn’t squirm beneath the gaze, but met it, head on.

                “Okay,” he finally said.

                When she got the squealing call from Quinn, she felt nothing but happiness for her friend. Kelly was exactly what Quinn wanted and needed, and she supported that. After all, she got to come home each day to the love of her life; Quinn should get to do the same.

                But just like the dinosaurs were unaware of the meteor that would cause their eventual destruction, Santana didn’t see the end coming in her world either.

                They got the invitation to Quinn’s wedding in the mail the same day that her lab received back the first images of Pluto from the satellite that had been launched to explore its surface back when Pluto was still considered a planet.

                Santana couldn’t hide her excitement as she told Josie about the pictures that she had explored with her colleagues. She was just really getting into it, when Josie drew her up short. Santana looked at her, stopping immediately in her speech. She grinned, embarrassed, “I was going on again, wasn’t I?”

                Josie didn’t immediately say anything, and at the look on her face, Santana frowned, knowing something bad was coming in the way that animals knew bad weather was imminent and they disappeared before the approaching storm could destroy them. Santana wanted to take cover. “What’s the matter, baby?”

                Josie’s face was stoic, but Santana could see the emotions there, just beneath the surface, almost hidden but not quite. “I can’t do this anymore.”

                Santana looked around in confusion. “Do what? I’ve been boring you again, haven’t I?”

                Josie averted her gaze, looking out at the ocean. “No, you don’t bore me, Santana. You could never bore me. Your passion, your passion is incredible, it’s infectious. I’ve…I’ve never met someone like you before, I’ve never _been_ with someone like you before. You’re incredible.”

                Santana stepped into Josie’s line of sight, and the older woman carefully looked at her. Santana had once told her that the reason the sun and the moon look the same size in the sky is because although the sun is 400 times larger than the moon, it’s also 400 times further away, so it looks the same size. It’s all a matter of relativity: the further away something is, the smaller the problem seems, until it’s right up in your face that it completely eclipses everything else. It seemed that the sun had set. Even though Santana could still see the light; there was nothing but distance in her eyes.

                “Do you love me, Santana?”

                Santana was confused. She had told her just this morning that she did. She could answer this question easily. “Of course I love you! We’re…we’re getting married, and are going to have a family together.”

                “How much?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “How much do you love me? If you had to quantify it, if you had to put a value to your love, how much do you love me?”

                Santana felt like she was sinking, like if she didn’t answer this correctly she was going to lose everything. She felt like her body was slowly submerging into the sand. Sand! What was more infinite than a grain of sand? So she told her that, because she had said it once before, and Josie had seemed to like it. “I love you more than all of the grains of sand on all of the beaches of the world,” Santana said confidently.

                To her horror, Josie gave a choked sob, even though no tears fell. “I can’t marry you.”

                Santana could feel it, that ice slowly taking over her extremities, creeping towards her heart. Once again she was being told by someone she loved that they couldn’t be with her, that they couldn’t have a life with her, that she was nice, a nice fuck, a nice companion, but she wasn’t their forever. “What do you mean? Like you need more time?” Here Santana reached for her hand, but Josie pulled away before she could touch her. Took a step back.

                “No, I mean I can’t marry you, Santana. Not ever. I don’t need time, I need-,”

                “What? What did I do? Please tell me!”

                “You didn’t do anything, Santana, don’t you get that? You’re perfect. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re passionate,”

                “And so are you so! If this is some self-esteem crap I don’t buy it. What’s really the problem?”

                Josie pressed her lips harshly against Santana’s. “The problem is I fucking love you,” she said, bitterly. Santana stumbled back a little, touching her lip. She was so lost. What was happening? Josie, seeing the confusion, and hurt, in Santana’s gaze, placed a hand on her face, stroking softly. Santana looked up to her, her eyes wet, seeing the end in the gaze of her lover, but having no idea how they had gotten here. They were supposed to be getting married. Right here on this beach. They had a wedding planner.

                “If I loved you less, I would marry you, Santana. But I love you too much to do that. I know you’re probably going to think that I’m crazy because you haven’t realized yet, but.” Josie stooped and when she straightened again, she was holding a handful of sand. There seemed to be no purpose to this other than for the both of them to watch each individual grain fall back to the sand below. And Santana did watch, she watched as if the gesture held some meaning, as if every grain had import. She even tried to follow the grains as they rested against the sand, as if they had answers, but there was just too many of them to mark each place. Some got lost.

                “That’s not enough,” Josie whispered sadly. “The first time you ever said that to me, I looked it up. Do you know how many grains of sand it is estimated we have on our world?” Santana did actually know the answer to that, but she didn’t want to say. “It’s estimated that there’s roughly 7 quintillion, five hundred quadrillion grains of sand on the beach.”  

                Santana nodded, trying to pay very close attention. “Okay, but Joze, what does that have to do with us?”

                You said your love for me was greater than every grain of sand, on every beach in the world; it was infinite.”

                “It is!”

                “No, it’s _definite_. It has an end. Even infinity has its limits. You may love me that much, because you _love_ that much, your love is that great, but there’re more stars in the sky then there are grains of sand on the beach, and we both know that you never look down. I know where your gaze has always been, even if you don’t.”

                Santana heard her, but she didn’t understand. Not yet, these kinds of things…they take time. “So you’re tired of the astronomy?” It would hurt her, to give it up, but she was still young enough to figure something out, to eke out a new path in the world. She was grasping at straws, she knew this, but she didn’t want to admit that this was really the end.

                “No, Santana. I’m telling you that I know that I’m not the one who your heart beats for, and I’m not going to wait around, or trap you, until you realize who you’re really in love with. That’s what I’m saying. I can’t marry you. I won’t marry you. I’m not the love of your life,” Josie said sadly. “You don’t know it yet, but I do, and I can’t just wait around for you to realize that even if you do love me more than all the grains of sand, on every beach in the world, there’s far more stars in the sky, and I’m not your stars. I’m just the grains of sand in an hourglass, slowly ticking away to a very definite, inevitable conclusion.”

                Numbly Santana watched as Josie separated the lives that they had shared together into little boxes for her to take alone, and when the door shut on everything that they had together, it sure felt like she had just lost the love of her life. Santana dragged herself outside to the hammock they had set up so that she could star gaze, and stared at the moon until it completely filled up her entire vision and she could no longer see anything in the night sky, especially the stars.

 

(But if I can’t have you)

 

                Santana lay in her hammock, using her foot to push herself back and forth, as the ocean breeze brushed over her, her eyes trained on the sky. The closest star system to earth were a cluster of three known as Alpha Centauri. They were 93,000,000 miles, or 4.367 light years away. Whenever you looked at them, the light you were looking at was already more than four years old.

                Santana had spent years staring up at the stars, but after Josie left she wondered what earth must have looked like to the heavens. She wondered what humanity looked like; what love looked like. Here on earth, love looked like a cabin on the beach made for more than one soul, suspiciously vacant, and far too lonely for one person. It looked like waking up early in the mornings from phantom kicks, and running on the beach until her calves burned, and her breath came up short, and she collapsed onto sand that had felt like a betrayer ever since they had inexplicably had a helping hand in the end of her relationship.

                She wondered if you could see the energy that Josie took with her when she walked away leaving nothing behind but her memory and the cat that Santana shooed off and fed in equal measures. She wondered if there were trace elements of Josie that lingered, because even with Josei’s stuff gone, Santana could practically still see the items there, as if the light from them had not yet disappeared or made it to her eyes.

                She wondered if the heavens named the grains of sand on the beach, the way that humans counted the stars in the sky.

                She couldn’t get rid of the sand.

                Grains would blow into the house with the wind, so that no matter how often Santana swept it, there were varying amounts of sand on the floor of her house. Sand was a natural abrasive. You could use it to make harsh surfaces softer. Things battered and worn by the wind, and sand, were more rounded. Santana imagined that she was being shaped by her environment. Heart’s didn’t break, they just reminded you, every now and then, that they were still beating inside your chest.

                There was a theory out there that stated that for every major decision we make, there’s an alternate universe that exists where that decision had never been made. Santana thought about that as she looked up at the stars. There were universes that existed where Santana had never been a cheerleader, never joined Glee, never came out the closet, never was a bully. It made it hurt a little less at the thought that that meant that there were universes where she and Josie were still together, until she realized that she had never made the decision to end things. That that had been Josie’s decision. That meant that there was an infinite number of universes out there, all of them ending with Josie walking away from her.

*

                She went to New York a week and a half before Quinn’s wedding, and did her duties as Quinn’s best friend and maid of honor, without bitter feelings, or feelings of resentment. She surprised herself at how genuinely happy she was for Quinn, and Quinn was so occupied that she missed that Santana was without her plus one, until after the ceremony was over, when they were in the reception hall sitting down to dinner, and Quinn seemed to be searching for someone who wasn’t there.

                “Where’s Josie?” Quinn finally questioned, finally noticing that her face had been conspicuously missing this entire time.

                Santana gave a weak smile. “We broke up.”

                Brittany came home with her after the wedding, and she stayed for the next two years.

                There is this scene in Forest Gump, where Forest is missing Jennie, and one day she just shows up like a ghost on her porch. That’s kind of how Brittany ended up back in her life. Except instead of a just suddenly, they fell into bed together in the hotel room above the reception hall. And Brittany coming home with her, was just to help chase out the demons of Josei’s absence, but instead they were both fresh out of ended relationships, and Santana fell into old patterns.

                Brittany taught her how to dance again. Josie was more of the sway your hips doing chores kind of girl, not the kind who was willing to show off her lack of dance moves in front of other people. Brittany was an exhibitionist, and was naturally talented, and she wanted to learn the local styles of dancing to add to her already growing arsenal, already preparing for the days when she would be choreographing movies for the next generation of dancers who still had their youth and bodies still intact.

                Brittany easily got a job at a local school, and she was so different from Josie that it was a welcome change. They fell back into the love that they had with each other, even grew in new love, but it was temporary. Santana didn’t want to talk about the future with Brittany, because she had invested so much of it into Josie, she couldn’t go through that heart break again. For once, Santana wanted to stay in the present, while Brittany wanted to talk about their future.

                It surprised neither of them that things didn’t last.

                Before the light of their relationship had a chance to make it to the closest stars, it was already over.

               

(I want this life alone)

                               

                Santana was hit with Kellen’s friendly smile when she knocked lightly on the door of Quinn’s private room. “Ssh,” he admonished, but opened his arms to encompass her in a hug. “You made it.”

                Santana’s eyes darted around the room. “Wouldn’t have missed this.” _Again_.

                Kelly looked around, as if expecting someone. “Brittany didn’t come with you?”

                “So, where’s the little tyke?” she questioned, dodging Kelly’s and keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the room’s sleeping inhabitant.

                Eileen, Kellen’s mother, lifted a hand from beneath the baby to wave. “I’ve got him.”

                Santana smiled, as Kelly placed a hand on the small of her back. “Mum, this is Quinn’s best friend, Dr. Santana Lopez.”

                “Not quite yet,” Santana corrected, as she held a hand out to Eileen who seemed impressed. “What specialty?”

                “Ph.D.,” she corrected. “Doctor of Philosophy in Astronomy and Cosmic Theory. I’m working towards it, I don’t have my PH. D yet.” Her eyes fell on the little bundle in Eileen’s hands. Kellen wordlessly coaxed his mother to give up the baby. “Luke Davis Richardson please meet your aunt Santana,” he said, as he placed the baby in Santana’s arms, supporting his neck until she correctly adjusted her arms.

                “Favorite aunt,” she corrected. “Hi there,” Santana cooed. “Hi!”

                Tears stung her eyes, and the two of them just stood there for a few minutes. Luke appeared to have gone back to sleep, and Santana rocked him, getting used to the feel of him in her arms.

                “Brittany?”

                “We broke up.”

                There was silence as he processed. “Why’d you and Brittany break up,” Kelly whispered. “From what Quinn tells me, you guys are like…soul mates or something.”

                Santana gave a grimace. “I don’t think I believe in soul mates anymore.”

                Kellen made a noise in the back of his throat. “When’d you break up?”

                “A couple of months ago.”

                “Why didn’t you tell me?”

                Over the years the two of them had become friends, and they talked if not frequently, often enough. Not often enough to call him up to tell him that she and Brittany had broken up, though. “Didn’t find it that important. Didn’t want you trying to find me a replacement or offer your condolences. I think I’m not meant to be with anymore.”

                “So, what, you’re just going to go this world alone?”

                Santana gave a tilt of her shoulders that could have been taken as a shrug. “Look, whatever it is I’m selling, it doesn’t really seem like anyone’s buying it, so I guess I might.”

                “That’s crazy,” Kellen said. “You’re incredible and we both know it.”

                Santana rolled her eyes, and they fell onto the swaddled bundle in her arms. She was aware of the closeness of Kelly; even though she had taken over possession of this little guy, Kelly didn’t want to be too far away from his first born. Santana chanced a glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting Kelly’s. He had to be aware of the closeness, but didn’t step away. “You’re a natural at that,” he said, instead.

                Santana shrugged. “I’m just holding a baby.”

                Kelly leaned over her to touch Luke’s cheek. “But he’s the best baby. Isn’t he the best looking kid you’ve ever seen?” he demanded. His chest puffed out. “Heir to the throne.”

                Santana smiled down at the little baby, this mini representation of the girl who she had grown to love. It was too soon to tell which one of his parents Luke would turn out to look like because the baby was all squashy and didn’t much look like anything, but there were parts Kellen and parts Quinn, and with a sharp pang of regret Santana realized that that was something that she would never see in her children. She would never see her and her lover’s features present in their children. She could understand why the picture could be so appealing, why Quinn wanted that picture so badly. Love was the surrendering of yourself, of becoming something greater. What a miraculous gift to have the representation of the person you loved in your arms.

                For a second, just one, she pictured that this was her and Kellen’s baby. She wondered what that would feel like. It was just a passing moment. Not all babies looked like both parent’s anyway, so not every heterosexual couple even got to feel that, and not all children were brought into the world out of love. Disney-ing reality just brought a lot of unnecessary hurt upon oneself.

                Santana saw movement from the corner of her eye, and she was surprised to see that Quinn was up and her eyes were on her. She knew Quinn must have been exhausted; it hadn’t exactly been an easy birth, and she had drugs in her system. Santana was aware of that, and she blamed that on the reason that Quinn was looking at her, and not Kellen, in the way she was looking at her right now.

                “Are you trying to steal my baby?” Quinn finally said, breaking the stare between the two of them.

                Santana laughed. “Are you kidding? Who’d want this thing,” she joked, but kept her hands tightly around the baby.

                Kelly pushed her playfully. “Hey!” he protested with a laugh. “You’d be _lucky_ to get to have him.”

                Santana looked at Kelly, before looking back at Quinn. “You did good, princess,” she remarked. She walked over to hand Quinn the baby, their hands brushing in the exchange. Santana shivered slightly. She leaned down and placed a kiss to Quinn’s forehead. “Good job, tubbers.”

                “Seriously?” Quinn demanded with fake anger. Santana shrugged. Once Luke was secure with mom, Santana went over to Kelly, and mussed his hair. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good job, papa.”

                Kelly blushed underneath the kiss, before smiling at Santana, and then giving a broader smile at his wife and new son. Santana slipped out of the room, to not impede further on the family moment.

                Quinn texted her five minutes after she left.

                _Why’d you leave_?

                Santana read over the words and replied: _Didn’t want to interrupt._

                It was less than a minute later that she had her response. _Don’t be stupid. You’re family._

                Santana smiled down at the phone, before pocketing it.

 

(Spare the rising storm)

 

                _Kelly cheated on me with his fucking secretary._

                The message came half a day later than the message Kellen had sent to her: _I fucked up._

                Quinn’s message was like a hit to her own gut. It was almost as if Kellen had cheated on _her_. She had had faith in the man; to date he was the only one of Quinn’s boyfriends/lovers that Santana had ever actually liked, and then he turned out to be just like everyone else?

                “How fucking dare you, Kelly!”

                “I don’t need a lecture.”

                “Too bad! I fucking, I believed in you, you know that! Quinn has the most fucked up taste in guys, but you know what I thought about you? I thought _she finally got herself a good one! She finally found someone decent._ Do you know how many times I’ve said that about _any_ guy she’s dated? Never! Never, and I thought that about you-,”

                “And I fucked up!”

                “Yes, you did!”

                “Do you really think I need you to do tell me that?”

                Santana was frustrated. She was sure that if Kelly was actually in front of her, she might have kicked him or something. Maybe done worse. “Why? Why would you do that?”

                Kelly laughed harshly. “ _Why_? Why did you sleep with Quinn when you were with Josie?”

                “So that’s what you’re going to go with? Because Quinn cheated it’s okay?”

                “No, it’s not, but damn it, don’t you dare try to make me seem like I’m a horrible guy, when you slept with my _girlfriend_!”

                Santana did have the decency to be embarrassed, though she wasn’t about to share that with him.

                “So, you…what, you slipped?”

                “No, I didn’t slip! I wanted to be wanted for once.”

                “What the hell are you talking about?”

                “Ask me how many times we’ve had sex since Luke was born. Yuliya doesn’t pull away when I touch her! I don’t wonder if Yuliya is thinking about other people touching her when I touch her. I know Quinn’s tired, and her breasts are sore from our son feeding, and she doesn’t feel the same since she had the baby, I know everything that Quinn says, but I can’t just forget that she had sex with you. I can’t help but wonder if she’d rather be with you, when she pulls away from my touch, but stays up all night to talk to you.”

                “She doesn’t-,”

                “Like hell Yes, she does, Santana. She gets so excited to talk to you, and it’s like I’m just, I’m just there. In her way, in your way.”

                “She loves you, you idiot, and you’re going to throw your family away, for what? Over perceived demons? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”

                “Fuck you!”

                “No, fuck you, and get your shit together Kelly, before you lose the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

 

(And let the rivers flow)

 

                Brittany gave a pout and batted her eyes. “Please, San?” she begged. Santana rolled her eye. “Fine,” she grunted.

                Brittany clapped her hands together, and Santana couldn’t help but smile. “You’re the best!” Brittany placed a kiss to Santana’s cheek.

                The next day Santana was being dragged into Brittany’s classroom, early in the morning. “Okay, chickadees, today we’ve got a very special guest! This is my very best friend, Dr. Lopez-,”

                “Not yet,” Santana interjected.

                Brittany went on as if she hadn’t heard. “And she’s going to teach you guys about the planets!”

                There were mixed reviews from the 8 and 9 year-olds in front of her. One fresh little boy gave a wolf whistle. “Oh please,” Santana snapped. “Try that again when you don’t need nap time.”

                Brittany laughed. “So how many of you know about the planets.”

                A few hands went into the air. Santana pointed to a little girl, who had her hair cordoned off into four thick braids. “What do you know?”

                “That there are eight planets, and we’re on…number three.”

                “Very good! Would you believe that when I was your age, there were actually nine planets?”

                “No way,” a dark-haired boy said.

                “It’s totally true.” Santana recited the planets on her fingers. “Now how many of you can say all the names of the planets?”

                There was only a few hands this time, and one precocious boy who recited them without prompting. “Very good, but for all of you that don’t know it, don’t worry because I’m here to teach you. When I was a kid, we were taught a Mnemonic device. Mnemonic is just a fancy way of saying ‘something catchy to help you remember’. The mnemonic device we were taught went like this.” Santana wrote the sentence _My very eccentric mother just served us nine pizzas_ , underlying the first letter in each word. “See, the first letter matches a planet. My – Mercury, Very -Venus Eccentric- Earth, and so on, but I’ve got a better way.”

 

                “See, I told you it would be fun!” Brittany said, later, once they were away from the kids. You say I’m a natural, but so are you!”

                Santana blushed, and brushed the words off. “Working with kids is a lot better than my students,” she admitted. “I love getting into intellectual debates with semi-adults, _especially_ because I get some sort of pleasure in telling them they’re wrong, but I love that, too.”

                Brittney patted her on the ass. Their physical affections hadn’t dissipated just because they were no longer together. “So when are you going to have one of your own?”

                It wasn’t the first time that Santana thought about it. She had been thinking about it since Quinn got pregnant with Luke. She tried not to think about the fact that if she and Josie were still together, they might have had a child by now. Josie was older, so she would have probably carried first. Two would be nice, she thought. A boy and a girl.

                “When the stars align for me, Britt-Britt.”

               

(Pack up and leave everything)

 

                Five minutes before she dismissed the lecture, Dr. Cheema, her faculty advisor, appeared at the door of the lecture hall, besides a woman that she didn’t immediately recognize. “Okay, that’s it for today. Turn in your papers, not your excuses, on your way out, and don’t forget to read chapters 18 and 19 for tomorrow’s lecture!”

                The students jumped up from their seats as if getting out of class an extra few minutes early was the greatest gift in the world. Santana watched them fill up her tray and file out, before she turned to her guests. “Santana,” Dr. Cheema greeted. “There is someone I’d like you to meet. This is Dr. Tambuwal.”

                Santana recognized the name almost instantly. Dr. Tambuwal was currently at Columbia and was developing a somewhat controversial theory on the structure of the universe. Santana looked from Dr. Cheema to Dr. Tambuwal. Dr. Cheema gave her a slight nod.

                Santana couldn’t help herself from fangirling. “Uh wow, hi. It’s an absolute honor, Dr. Tambuwal. I’ve been closely following your work.”

                Dr. Tambuwal smiled. “And I, yours.”

                Santana looked confused. “ _My_ work?”

                “My cousin has a four-year-old. She _adores_ your show.”

                Santana blushed, “I wouldn’t call it a show…”

                “I wouldn’t be so modest. Your dedication to teaching younger children the principals of astronomy is commendable. I know an executive at PBS who might be interested, if you were able to come up with a proper concept.”

                “Really?”

                Dr. Tambuwal nodded. “Once you get your doctorate, give me a call, and I’ll get you an interview. I flew in for the upcoming conference, and Dr. Cheema has shared with me your dissertation. I’ve had ample opportunity to review your work, and if you don’t mind me saying, I have been thoroughly impressed.”

                Santana barked out an amazed laugh. “No, I don’t mind you saying!”

                They talked about Dr. Tambuwal’s theory on refractive universes over lunch. They traded business cards, and one of the preeminent leaders in her field left with a “I look forward to working with you in the future.”

               

(Don’t you see what I can bring)

 

                “Again, mommy, pease, again!”

                Quinn looked over at Santana, and they shared a look. “Okay, Luke. One, two-,”

                “Three!” he cried giddily, as he was swung up into the air by the two women. Luke giggled. “Again!”

                “Really?”

                “Yes, ‘gain.”

                “You’re not bored yet?”

                Luke shook his head, sending red curls bouncing. “Nope!” They swung him again just to hear the sound of his laughter. After a few more, he broke away so he could spin around in a circle until he got dizzy. “Whoa,” he held up his arms to steady himself.

                “That’s your kid,” Santana teased, but she was amazed that Quinn was so free with her son; she loved seeing her allow him to actually act like a kid. Santana knew Quinn hadn’t been allowed to do much of that, even at Luke’s young age. It was a growth Santana wasn’t expecting.

                “So how is everything in your world?”

                Santana took her eyes off of Luke. “Don’t we live in the same world?”

                Quinn shook her head playfully, gesturing wildly. “Oh, no. You left my world far behind a long time ago and you’re been traveling in your own orbit ever since.”

                Santana nodded. “My world is good.”

                “How is the writing coming along?”

                She continued to nod. “My dissertation takes up a fair bit of my time, but when I’m not working on that, I do some writing for me every now and then.”

                “Explain to me, again, what you’re books are about.”

                Santana stepped away. “Luke?”

                Luke stopped what he was doing and rushed to Santana’s side. He saluted. “Yes, auntie Tana?”

                “What’s Taurus.”

                Almost instantly, Luke’s hands went up to his head to form horns. “Taurus is a bull!” He head-butted Santana, then jumped back, snorted, and pawed at the ground with his foot. “When it’s cold,” he pretended to shiver, “you can see Taurus in the sky! Taurus was sent to the heavens to avenge Fishar.”

                “Ishtar.”

                “To avenge Ishtar! Taurus is mighty against Orion, with Aries to the west, and Gemini,”

                “Who are?”

                Luke jumped up and down on spot. “The twins! The twins! Mommy, can you have twins next?”

                A smug look crossed Santana’s features. “Yes, Quinnie, can you have twins?”

                “Pease?”

                “Please?”

                Quinn pointed a finger in her face. “You’re not funny.”

                Luke tilted his head back and gave a fake laugh, causing both adults to laugh. Quinn slapped a hand over her face, and shook her head.

                “Where are Gemini?”

                “To the east! The east, the east!”

                 Santana held her hand up for a high five which Luke immediately obliged. “So, that’s it in a nutshell. The idea is to do a book for each sign. There will be a story. And in between beliefs about people born under the sign, as well as astrological facts, but,” she pointed to Luke, “that’s what I’m aiming for; that kind of understanding from a kid Luke’s age and older. I’m using astrology to garner interest in astronomy, that’s easily accessible and understood by kids.”

                Santana could tell that she had impressed her, and there was the look in Quinn’s eyes, one she spent a lot of her summers in New York trying to ignore. “Good job, buddy,” she said to draw attention back to Luke. She swung him up onto her shoulders.

                “Whoa! Look at how tall I am now, mommy!”

                “Not that tall,” Quinn joked. “Aunt Tana and you are already about the same height.”

                Santana’s jaw dropped. “Short jokes? Really Fabray?”

                Quinn fluttered her eyebrows. “Well, you are kind of small.”

                “Shut it!”

                Luke giggled. “Mommy kiss!”

                “I can’t, you’re _way_ up there.”

                “Tana, down pease.”

                She started to lift him off her shoulders, but he squealed not wanting to be let down, so Santana leaned down enough so that Luke could place a kiss on his mom. When she pulled back away, she felt warm.

                They hadn’t moved more than a few steps before a hand touched Quinn’s shoulder, stopping their progression. It was an older woman, probably in her 60s, maybe 70s. “I was watching you three, and I just wanted to come over here to say that your family is beautiful.” Both Santana and Quinn looked at each other and blushed. “Umm…”

                 Quinn reached for Santana’s hand, and kissed it. “Thank you,” she said, in a very polite voice. Santana gave her a sideways glance, and Quinn just smiled at her. “I think so, too.”

                The lady walked off, and Santana grunted. “What was that Fabray?” she demanded, once the lady was gone.

                Quinn just nuzzled up against her. “Oh, lighten up, San. Haven’t you been waiting your whole life to be complimented by a 60-year-old woman about how beautiful your love is?”

                Santana pushed Quinn away. “Yeah, if you _were_ my love.”

                “I love you Aunt Tana,” Luke said from her shoulders. Santana looked up, and Quinn snaked her hand. “See, the world has spoken.”

 

(Can’t keep, this beating heart)

                Santana walked by the building twice, before she went inside. She gave a glance over her shoulder before she took the elevator up to the eighth floor. The office itself was bright, and cheery, and filled with perhaps six other people. She made the 7th, reminding her that she was, once again, alone. She checked in with the receptionist before taking a seat and picking up the nearest pamphlet. She felt ready to jump out of her skin, or at least walk out, when the door opened again, and Kelly walked into the room. She relaxed slightly when she saw him. He glanced nervously around before he found Santana and sat down beside her. She gave a tense smile. “Thanks for coming,” she said, earnestly. The thought of doing this was scary enough, the thought of doing this alone, doubly so.

                “What are friends for?” he questioned rhetorically. He placed a hand on top of Santana’s, and squeezed.

                “Did you tell Quinn that you’re here?” Santana questioned. She realized that she was whispering, but the room was so quiet beneath the elevator music that was playing that she felt that if she spoke in a normal voice it would startle the people around her.

                “No, did you?”

                “She’s not my wife.”

                Kelly grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “Right. No, I didn’t.”

                Santana felt herself relax even more. She didn’t know what Quinn, what any of her friends’ reactions would be if they knew what she was up to, and she couldn’t stand the thought of being laughed at, not over this, so she told no one. Except Kellen.  

                “You sure you want to do this?”

                Santana was startled out of her thoughts by his voice. She glanced across the space at him. She noticed she was bouncing her leg, and made an effort to stop. She forced herself to feel calm. “It’s not what I want, no.” What Santana wanted was to find the right woman, fall in love, and to have her sitting in the seat beside her, soft hands holding on to hers, her partner being gentle and reassuring and smiling at her in love, ever time their eyes met. _That’s_ what she wanted.

                But she was for more practical, and realized that she may never have that. She had not found that with Josie, or Brittany…or Quinn. Santana didn’t often think about that kind of thing with Quinn, didn’t often allow herself such thoughts because Quinn was married, happily, to the guy sitting beside her, the guy Santana counted as a friend. She knew there was love between her and Quinn, maybe more than that if she had read Quinn correctly on the day Luke was burn, but she knew, accepted, that they had missed their chance.

                So, no, this wasn’t the ideal situation, but Santana realized that it may never happen, and she didn’t want to miss out on her chance to have what her other friends had. She didn’t want to, but if she had to go at it alone, she would.

                “Then why are we here?”

                “Do you see anyone else sitting beside me?” Santana questioned. Kelly actually looked, but not in a sarcastic way, merely as if he was possibly expecting someone to be there.

                “No.”

                “Exactly.”

                “What-?”

                “You have the picture-perfect family.”

                “And you…don’t want that?”

                Santana gave a good-natured chuckle. “Duh, of course I want that, but Biology tells me that I can’t have that. Unless you’re about to tell me that I pray hard enough the gay will just go away.”

                “Have you ever heard me say any of that crap?”

                “No, but this is kind of the only way that I can have a baby.”

                “I get that, but don’t you want to be here with-,”

                “With who? If there was a perfect woman out there for me, don’t you think that I would have found her by now?”

                “But you’re,”

                “I’m what?”

                “Gorgeous, and incredibly smart.”

                “And incredibly alone.”

                “But going through a pregnancy by yourself. Quinn…I couldn’t imagine having to go through that without support.”

                “News flash, women do it all the time. We’re tough like that.”

                “Yeah, but you shouldn’t _have_ to do it alone.”

                “I am alone.”

                “At least move back here if you’re serious. That way you’ll have your friends-,”

                “Kellen,” She said, giving him a look.

                Kelly shut up. Then he laughed. “You’re almost as good at that as Quinn.”

                “Oh please, your wife has nothing on me. Who do you think taught her?”

                Kelly squeezed her hand. “I know you don’t want me to say this, but we’d all love it if you did move back to New York.”

                Santana stood up without a word, and went to the reception desk. “Excuse me, yeah, hi. I know I have to like, get consulted or whatever, but my friend’s driving me nuts. Can I, like, see your merchandise so the two of us don’t have to talk anymore?”

                After a sideways glance to where Kellen was sitting, the receptionist handed a bulky binder over to her. “Thank you.”

                Santana carried the binder back to her seat, and opened it. Part of it fell onto Kelly’s lap. Santana inwardly cringed when she saw the first handful of donors. It wasn’t because of the guys; the first page contained four, each good looking in their own way. There were two white guys, one Asian, and one black. They were all between 5’10 and 6’3, and had admirable attributes. But it was depressing in a way. This was humanity for sale. She thought about what you look for in a particular mate. When you meet someone at a club, or out and about, or at work. If she stripped it down to mere biology, according to some scientists, all of the things that we think about as being a matter of choice, were simply about viability. Even cheating was scientific; women had the tendency to cheat most often when they are ovulating. This was essentially the same thing as going into a bar and picking your potential mate…right? Was what went down in a bar any worse than picking a guy based on a picture in a binder, a number, and some attributes?

                “Okay, here’s one,” Santana said, settling on a guy six pages in. He had cute dimples. “Hispanic male, 5’9, plays guitar, physics degree.” Kelly only gave a slight glance over, but was obviously not paying that much attention. “See, he thinks that kindness and character are important, and-,”

                “Why don’t you just use my sperm?”

                Although the statement was blurted out, this was obviously something that Kelly had spent a lot of time thinking about, possibly since he walked into the clinic. Maybe since Santana had made the call.

                “Oh, or maybe this one: he’s half black, half Hispanic. He’s not Mexican, but I guess that’s okay. He’s not musical, but he’s athletic. Why aren’t any of these guys short and chunky with bad medical histories? You know what I think? I think these profiles are all lies. I mean sure, maybe some of these guys are legit, but I know the kind of guy who was rushing to give sperm in high school, and it wasn’t _‘Mario Lopez’s look alike’._ ”

                “Did you hear me, Santana?”

                “Yes, I did, and I’m choosing to ignore you.” Santana flipped a page. “This guy has a master’s in Chemistry! He’s Asian though. I suppose if I’m willing to accept a donor who isn’t Mexican, but is some other kind of Latinx, I could use someone who’s not Hispanic at all, but I kind of only ever considered the donor to be a different race if my partner was. Do you think that matters?”

                “I was being serious.”

                “Yes, but only because you’re not actually thinking clearly. If your wife knew that you just offered her best friend your sperm, she would cut off your balls. Really, I’m looking out for you.”

                “I’m pretty sure that if Quinn knew you were at an IVF clinic thinking about getting artificially inseminated and you didn’t tell her, she’d be madder at you, than at me.”

                Santana paused to give that some consideration. Kelly was probably right. But Quinn had nothing to do with this situation, and neither did Kelly. She looked down at the binder. The next donor was blonde with hazel eyes.

                “We both know you don’t want to carry some stranger’s baby, and you don’t want your child to have siblings that you don’t know about. How can you be sure that the same characteristics you are admiring in any of those guys aren’t the same characteristics a hundred other women have admired as well? Are you okay with your baby having siblings they don’t know about?”

                “Kelly,”

                “You know me, you’ll know all of the baby’s siblings, because you’re already in their life. I have a graduate degree…”

                “Shut up-,”

                “And if you and Quinn end up together, all of your kids will be related.”

                “Shut up!”

                Santana couldn’t help it. She started to cry. She slammed the binder down, and walked out of the room, Kelly rushing after her. “Santana!”

                When they were out of the office, Santana turned on her heels. “You said you would be there for me! This isn’t easy, okay? This is scary, this is terrifying, and I don’t need you whispering in my ear how wrong this is!”

                “I was just trying to be practical.”

                “And stop pushing your wife into my arms!”

                “I’m not, I’m being honest. If I wasn’t in the picture-,”

                “But you are.”

                “But if I wasn’t? What if something happened to me-? You’re already Luke’s godparent.”

                Santana bit down on her lip so much that it hurt. “Josie broke up with me because of this crap right here,” she snapped. “She said she couldn’t marry me because she believed that one day Quinn and I would get together, but you, and Josie, and Brittany are all forgetting one thing.”

                “And what’s that?”

                “ _I_ didn’t choose Quinn. You seem to be stuck on this notion that Quinn’s going to realize that she’s in love with me, and when she does that I’m just going to go rushing into her arms, but you are ignoring the fact that I had the chance to be with Quinn, and I walked away from her, _not_ the other way around. I chose Josie, and I chose not to tell Quinn that Josie and I were broken up before you two got married. That was my choice. Quinn chose you, and right now, I’m choosing me, and I’m going to have this baby by myself. Now, you said that you’d be here for me. Can you do that, or am I really all alone in this?”

                Kelly hugged her, tightly. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

                Santana stayed in the embrace longer than necessary, before they broke apart, and went back inside.     

 

(At Bay)

 

                Santana was almost knocked to the ground by some kids running past the store. A solid hand    around her arm kept her from falling. “Oh, thanks.”

                “Kids,” the other voice replied in unison, and Santana was sure they both recognized the other’s voice at the same time.

                “Josie?”

                “Santana.”

                “Well this is…”

                “Wow-”

                 “So you’re back in New York?”

                Josie waved Santana to go in front of her, and she held the door opened as they went into the coffee shop. “I moved back, yes,” Josie answered. “You?”

                Santana smiled, and shook her head. “No, I’m still on the Island.”

                “Really?” Santana nodded. “Wait, are you still in Ole Blue?”

                “I am. I’m buying it, actually.”

                Josie leaned back, astonished. They each ordered, and Josie paid after waving off Santana’s money. They sat down at a table in the back corner.

                “What are you doing in New York?”

                Santana shrugged. “I always take a few weeks off during the summer, come and visit family, you know that whole thing. It’s kind of tough, being so far away the rest of the year.”

                “Yeah, it was. Living in Hawaii was beautiful, but it was so far from home.”

                “Is that what brings you back here?”

                “Kind of. Familiarity breeds contempt…wait, that’s not right.” She laughed to herself, but then fell quiet. They stared at each other, then they stared some more.

                “Why don’t you just ask?” Santana suggested.

                Josie let out a breath. “How’s Quinn?”

                “She’s well. She, Kelly, and their son, Luke, are just fine. That’s who I’m staying with right now.”

                “So you and Quinn-,”

                “Are still only really good friends.”

                Josie’s expressions were so easy to read. “You didn’t get together?”

                “I know you think you set me free to chase after my one great love, but you were it,” Santana said openly. “So, no, Quinn and I didn’t get together after you left. I spent a lot of time mourning your memory, and then Brittany and I got back together for a bit. We ended things amicably, she got married, and I’m…here.”

                Josie toyed with her cup. “I really thought that you and Quinn would have gotten together by now.”

                “I didn’t. So, how about you, Joze? How long did you stay in Hawaii, how long have you been back? Are you dating anyone?”

                “I just ended a three-year relationship, actually. Well, I didn’t end it, she ended things with me.”

                “I’m sorry to hear that.” Josie grimaced. Santana reached for her hand. “I know how much that hurts.”

                Josie nodded. “I’m sorry about us, Santana. I thought it was for the best.”

                “You were guarding your heart, I understand.”

                “But you and Quinn? You have to admit that there’s something there.”

                Santana felt like admitting it to Josie was the least she could do.                 “Honestly? Sometimes I think she’s in love with me,” Santana said with a sigh. She thought about that look at prom. When Luke was born, or just a few days ago when Quinn was holding her hand. “I love her, too, well, like I’m not in love with her, but I love her. And that’s as far as it goes. I loved you, I was in love with. You branded yourself on me, and then you just let me go.”

                “Santana.” Josie considered her words. “I have yet to find that person that I loved as much as you, and it scared me. It scared me because, even if you don’t see it, yet, Quinn is so in love with you, and you’re in love with her, too. And the thought of coming second, the thought of being pushed to the curve,”

                “I would never do that.”

                “You slept with her!”

                “You told me to!”

                “And you did it.”

                “Because you told me to! I never would have if you hadn’t suggested it.  And if that was the deal breaker, why didn’t you just break up with me back then? Why did you ask me to marry you? Why were we making wedding plans? What sense does that make?”

                Josie appeared to be at a loss for words, and Santana was, too. “I can’t fault you for being scared and guarding your heart. But please don’t attempt to get me to understand, when it was my heart you shredded.

                Santana stood up. “Thank you for the coffee.”

 

(Set my midnight sorrow free)

                Sophia (and never Sophie) kicked off her shoes at the door, and stepped out onto the beach. “How neat is this?” she questioned. “You have your own little piece of paradise, tucked behind the dunes.”

                “Sshh, don’t say that so loud, the haole might hear and push me out!”

                Sophia laughed richly, bowing. “Hey, as long as you embody the spirt of aloha, e komo mai.”

                Santana tilted her head against Sophia’s, exchanging breaths. Both of their breaths were slightly sweet due to the drinking that they had been doing earlier. They stayed moments longer than they should have before Sophia pulled back, dancing away from Santana. She was wearing an ankle length skirt, and she twirled around, arms raised to the sky. Santana fell back onto the hammock and just watched her.

                They were both a little tipsy. Santana was nervous celebrating. She had just defended her dissertation, quite successfully, and was riding the high. Sophia was a friend of a college that she had met at a conference a few weeks after Santana had returned back to Hawaii for the year. She was an actual rocket scientist; her one mission in life was to send man to the stars.

                “Those are some moves you got there.”

                Sophia stopped moving, glancing back over her shoulder with a smile. She started to hum a song, moving her hips and her hands to the improvised beat.

                “Can you believe that as long as I’ve been here, I haven’t learned to hula? I love to dance, I love hula dancers, but…no hula.”

                Sophia twirled slowly, in her own world.

                Santana watched, but then fell back and stared up at the sky. “Which constellation would be a hula dancer, do you think.”

                Sophia laughed, and didn’t answer.

                “What do you think’s out there?”

                “Infinity,” Sophia answered, whisper soft.

                Santana’s eyes fell to the seven sisters. “It’s amazing how few of my fellow academics want to talk about the possibility of other life out there. Like it’s like we _have_ to believe we’re all alone in this universe to make it mean something, but I think that’s pretty damn lonely.” Sophia’s dance slowed. “Dr. Tambuwal, she believes that there’s only one existence out there, that the whole of being is simply refractory universes of every decision every made. I thought about that one a lot when my ex left me.”

                Sophia’s hands moved in an elaborate story. “Taurus, would be your hula dancer.”

                Santana smiled. She watched the movements of the night sky, sometimes seeing a shooting star streak across the cosmos. “Come Josephine in my flying machine and it’s up she goes. _Up she goes_!” she hummed underneath her breath.

                “Dr. Tambuwal believes that time is not linear, but that all time exists at the exact same second, so that everything we’ve done in the past, and everything that we do in the future, shapes the present, but doesn’t change it because. So like say in the future someone creates a time machine, and goes back into the past to like, make it so Hitler was never born. The present is already aware that this has happened, and so it wouldn’t change the present or the future, it would just shift us over to the next alternate universe. What do you think?”

                Sophia, and never Sophie, made space for herself on Santana’s hammock. Their skin briefly touched, and Santana felt a small shiver.

                “I’ll build you your ship, young Rose, and we can find out.”

                Santana smiled, and Sophia went back to dancing. “ _Come_ _Josephine_ -.”

 

(I will give you all of me)

                Santana’s plane touched down to sunshine. She let her eyes take in the sight of the busy airport outside of her window, before she gathered her things, and waited in the line of people to be let off the plane.

                She emerged into a crowd full of strangers, settled her carry on on her shoulders, and made her way towards the baggage claim. She found the turnstile with her flight above it, and joined the crowd that was slowly forming to get their bags.

                “Dr. Lopez! Dr. Lopez, over here!”

                Santana smiled at the familiar voice, and turned to catch slight of a half blonde woman, baby in one arm, blossoming young man holding her hand. Her eyebrow rose. “Eventually you’re going to cut that out, right?”

                Quinn chuckled, “Oh no way, Dr. Lopez.”

                Santana hugged her, and Quinn the best squeeze she could without letting go of Luke’s hand. Luke hugged her next, and didn’t want to let her go, and she hadn’t yet got the chance to meet Kyle, so Quinn dumped the baby into her arms. Since Santana had the kids, Quinn pushed her Samsonite luggage through the crowd as she struggled to keep up with a swiftly moving Santana. For possibly the first time since Quinn purchased the vehicle, Santana didn’t snort at the sight of Quinn’s ‘mom wagon’, instead placing first Kyle, then Luke, into their seats and putting their belts on, while Quinn loaded up her luggage. She paused, feeling a strange sense of jamais vu. The ‘mom wagon’, the airport, the kids, all were familiar enough but the feeling that it was giving her was completely unknown.

                “What’s the matter?” Quinn questioned, seeing Santana just standing there. Santana’s eyes fell to Quinn, and she got that feeling in her stomach that she was unable to place.

                She looked at Quinn as if she didn’t know her. “Where’s Kelly?” she questioned.

                “He said to pass along his apologies. He’s caught up at work until 7:00.” They both got in the car.

                 “How are you two?”

                Quinn shrugged. “We’re here.” She gave a forced smile. “But you’re here now!”

                “I am,” Santana said quietly, unable to shake the queasy feeling in her stomach.

                “Seriously, San, what’s wrong?”

                Santana forced her own smile. “Nothing,” she lied. She had coming to the mainland (mostly New York), every summer since she had moved to Hawaii, but for the first time she felt like she didn’t have a place here. It was a rather dubious feeling, considering that she had come to figure out if she was going to take Dr. Tambuwal’s offered fellowship.

                 Quinn smoothed errant strands of Santana’s hair down, tucking it behind her ear as if it were merely an afterthought. They looked at each other, and the look lingered.

                “Do you remember when you came home from Lesbos?” Quinn questioned in a soft voice.

                Santana took the opportunity to pull her look away. She nodded, remembering that thought she had so long ago. Of that Future Santana and Future Quinn, of the weekends of Santana meeting Quinn at the station, of them greeting each other over and over again, over a long lifetime of reuniting after being apart. Of Quinn smiling Santana’s smile.

                Santana attempted to shake the images. “Yeah, what about it?”

                Quinn seemed hesitant, and when she did speak it caught Santana a little by surprise. “Thank you for carrying my bag,” she said.

                Santana’s look was sidelong before she settled in the seat, pulling her seat belt against her. There was that feeling in her stomach again; slightly queasy. Santana’s hand itched to hold Quinn’s in a way it hadn’t since she had come back from Lesbos. “Bout time you thanked me for that, tubbers,” Santana remarked.

                She gave Quinn the address for the place she was renting for the summer. Quinn placed her hand over Santana’s as she was putting in the instructions for the GPS. “You know you can stay at the house?”

                “And be underfoot all the time? No thanks. You guy needs your space.” 

                “You can share my room with me Auntie Tana,” Luke offered selflessly. “That way we can play all summer long, and we never have to say goodbye!”

                “You want to share your bedroom for the _whole_ summer?” Santana teased.

                The little boy thought about it, weighing his options and looking so much like his dad. Apparently whatever equation he was running in his head, he liked the outcome. “Yea! We can build a tent like we did last time, and stay up all night and tell ghost stories! We can even let Kyle spend the night. He doesn’t really do much except cry, but daddy says one day he’ll get as big as me, and then we can play!”

                Both women smiled at the boy’s words. “It’s just not, it’s not a good idea,” Santana said after an appropriate amount of time had passed.

                Santana could tell that Quinn wanted to say something to that, but maybe she understood.           

 

(Just leave your lover)

                Santana spent her days touring Columbia’s campus, getting familiar with the astronomy department, and visiting and catching up with her old friends. She and Josie had coffee together every couple of days, even caught one of Rachel’s plays together. She convinced Mercedes to go clubbing with her, visited Kurt’s studio, avoided Blaine. She tried to fit herself back into her old life. She visited her old haunts, rode the subway and purposely got lost. Acted like a tourist and visited Times Square. If she moved back, she didn’t know if she would live in the city, or the suburbs. The city was closest to the school, the suburbs closest to Quinn and Kelly.

                Santana wasn’t sure being close to Quinn and Kelly was a good thing. She knew things were changing inside of her, and she didn’t like the direction it was moving. Space, Hawaii, and Sophia, might be better for her well-being.

                But New York had Dr. Tambuwal, and the Richardsons, and her mom and dad were a short plane ride away, and if her agent succeeded in selling her book, it would be better if she was on the mainland.

                On a day when Santana didn’t have anything to do, but Quinn was busy with house chores, Santana ended up at the house. She had intended on watching the kids to make Quinn’s work easier, but Quinn talked her into helping her with the laundry. The whole thing felt entirely too domestic to Santana, and what bothered her was how much she didn’t mind that.

                They chatted idly as they separated baby’s clothes from little boy clothes, Santana working on the kids’ stuff, while Quinn stuck to her and Kellen’s things.

                “Did you like me in high school?”

                Santana paused in the item that she was folding, her brow furrowing. “Did I _like_ you? Like, like you, like you?”

                Quinn laughed, but she was looking intently at Santana. “I didn’t mean it like that, but since you mentioned it, did you?”

                Santana mulled it over while she folded up a shirt of Luke’s. “I might have checked you out a couple of times. Who didn’t? You’re Quinn Fabray.”

                Quinn blushed. “I might have, too?”

                “Might have, what? Checked me out?” Quinn nodded. “Yea?”

                “But, I didn’t realize I was doing it; I told myself I was just making sure that you were up to standards.”

                Santana rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s what you’d tell yourself.”

                “But did you _like_ me? Were we friends?”

                Santana pushed the folded clothes aside, making room for herself to sit down. “Sometimes. Sometimes I hated you, sometimes just seeing you made my day.”

                “Oh yeah, when was that?”

                “Ummm…there was this one time you smiled at me during some song that we were singing. I don’t know, some stuff. Did you like me?”

                Quinn was the one to pause. “You were my best friend. I might just be a glutton for punishment, or whatever, but even after you left me when I was pregnant with Beth, you were still the closest thing to a friend I had. That sounds…pathetic doesn’t it.”

                Santana moved so that she could draw Quinn into her arms. “Yeah, but only because we both were pathetic in high school. Neither of us are who we were then anymore.”

                “And who are we now?” Quinn posed, snuggling closer to Santana. Santana leaned back, pulling Quinn with her, and upsetting a pile or two of clothes. They adjusted so they could look at each other on the bed. “We’re Santana and Quinn,” Santana answered. “Two neighboring stars, with our own worlds attached, our own planets orbiting each other, our own place in the cosmos. We feed off of each other, in a good way. We feed each other energy when we need it, and take it when we’re low ourselves.”

                “You and your energy.”

                “The universe would be nothing without it,” Santana said, blithely.

                “I’d be nothing without you,” Quinn said. “My marriage is falling apart, I don’t know how much longer Kelly and I can last, but you, you have always been a constant in my life. You have always been there when I needed you.”

                Santana huffed, doing her best to not read anything into her words. “Well, I told you I would be, and I stick to my word, so-”

                “When?”

                “That night in the hotel. You asked me to stay with you. I told you I would.”

                “You’re too good to me.”

                Santana nodded. “I am. Now quit lolly-gagging and get back to work. These clothes are not going to fold themselves.”

                “Lolly-gagging? Who the _fuck_ are you?”

                They both laughed at Quinn’s words, and the previous intimacy of the moment was over.

 

(Leave him)

                Santana wandered into the library, where Kellen was stationed behind his desk, two fingers of amber liquid in the glass in front of him. Kellen looked up in surprise at Santana’s figure. “Where’s Quinn?”

                “Early night,” Santana offered.

                Kelly waved at the seat in front of him. “Have a seat, we’ll drink.”

                Santana hesitated, but she made her way over. Kelly picked up the decanter, but Santana stopped him. “No drink,” she said.

                Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “No?”

                They both watched each other carefully. “I’ve given it up for a while,” Santana said plainly.

                Kellen replaced the lid on the bottle, and stood up, walking over to the little mini fridge. He got Santana a bottle of water, handing it to her. “Congratulations?”

                Fear played behind Santana’s calm expression. “Too soon to tell.”

                He sat back down behind his desk. Santana looked him over. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink either.”

                He gave a harsh laugh. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

                “How much have you had to drink today?”

                He shrugged. “Not enough to make the world go away.”

                Santana took his glass from him. “There’s never going to be enough alcohol for that. You’re fucking it up yourself, do you know that?”

                Kelly glowered. “I’m not the problem! You are!”

                “You think I’m the problem? She is practically begging you to love her-,”

                “I do love her-,”

                “You’re pushing her away!”

                “Wrong.”

                “Distancing yourself from her, isn’t going to save your marriage.”

                “What the hell would save my marriage, Santana?” Kelly dug in his desk until he found a picture and flung it at her. It was the one from Prom. The same one that Santana had seen Quinn looking at a few days ago. It had been years since Santana had given that day any thought, much less looked at a picture. She didn’t even know this one existed.

                Kellen was looking at her with an indistinguishable look clouding his features. “This was high school,” Santana dismissed.

                “And yet…it was not nearly long enough. There’s no marriage to save,” Kelly concluded. “When are you moving back to New York?”

                Santana shook her head. “I can’t.”

                “Why not?”

                The tears caught Santana by surprise. Usually tears forced him to action, but he didn’t move to comfort her. He waited. “I’m in love with Quinn.” It wasn’t the picture that changed everything, it was just another piece of evidence on top of the growing evidence that Santana was coming to grips with lately. Kellen stiffened in his chair. “How can I take that fellowship, how can I move here, when I’m in love with someone that I can’t have?”

                Kellen was unable to move, and Santana didn’t fault him for not being able to comfort her. “This is so fucked up!” Santana shouted, but quietly in case she woke Quinn, who she had to remind herself was just upstairs. “I never wanted to like you, you know?” Santana spat angrily. “I didn’t. But you were just so damn likeable Kellen Richardson!”

                Kelly laughed harshly. “If it makes you feel any better, I never wanted to like you either, Santana.”

                Santana shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

                “If we’re being really honest, I actually hated you. When Quinn told me that you two had slept together just when I was thinking things were getting serious between us, I wanted to beat the shit out of you. I mean if you’re woman enough to steal someone else’s girl, then you’re woman enough to get hit cause of it. But…,” he shrugged, downing his glass and pouring another, “I got over it.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I loved Quinn, and Quinn loves you. Because she said it was a one time thing, and it happened out of nowhere, and I stupidly thought that so what if you got her that one night, as long as I get her every night after that. And then when you didn’t tell her that you and Josie broke up before the two of us got married, I didn’t hate you so much after that. And after Luke was born, I couldn’t hate you at all, because I realized there was a very real chance that one day you would be my son’s step mother, and that’s not the message I wanted to send to my son.”

                “Kelly, I wouldn’t…”

                “Most people don’t intend to break someone’s heart; but that doesn’t stop them from doing so, anyway.”

                “I’ll stay in Hawaii. Quinn and I have been long distance friends for years; I don’t see any reason why that has to change.”

                “How is that fair to anyone?”

                “How is any of this fair to _anyone_? I don’t know how to make this situation right!”

                “And what about me?”

                “You enjoy your wife and your kids.”

                Kelly shook his head. “Stay.”

                “And break your heart?”

                “You think it won’t be broken, just because you leave? My wife isn’t in love with me anymore, Santana. I pretend like I don’t know that, but that’s all it is, pretend. The pathetic thing is that I love her so much that I haven’t left yet, but in my heart I know there’s no point in sticking around. I’ve been drunk more than I’ve been sober for the last couple of weeks. I know it’s over.”

               

(For Me)

                Santana took the picture with her when she left. Alone in her rented bed, she stared at the look that the two of them had shared so very long ago.

                Santana understood the sky. She understood, atoms, and electrons, and quarks. She understood dynamic energy, she understood physics, and calculus, she understood orbiting bodies, quagmires, supernovas, and black holes. She understood time. She understood irrefutable facts: she had loved and been in love with Brittany, and she had loved and been in love with Josie, and Quinn had loved and been in love with Kelly. None of those were refutable. But this picture…and the feeling that Quinn had given her over the years. How could all of these things be true at the same time? How could she have looked so much like she was falling in love with Quinn at Prom, but still have been in love with Brittany? How could she be planning a future with Josie, but still feel as if Quinn was home? Could the heart simultaneously belong to more than one person? Polyamory relationships existed, so she supposed the answer to that was yes, but…Santana hadn’t been in love with Quinn when she was in love with Josie, and the same was true with Brittany, but she was in love with Quinn now, and she had been in love with Quinn before. So what was the truth?

                And then there was the fact that she loved Kelly. Not like she was in love with him, but she platonically loved Kelly in a way that was more than a brother, but much less than a lover. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she wanted to hurt Quinn, or hurt herself. Brittany had once told her that love was the ultimate selfish act; Santana wondered what was more selfish: staying, or leaving. Kelly might hate her if she left, but how could she stay?

                Santana woke up without realizing that she had even fallen asleep. She felt stiff, so she stretched, and when that didn’t work, she decided to go for a run. Santana’s mind drifted back to the runs that she and Quinn used to go on together. Brittany tagged along on occasion, but Brittany’s dancing ate up most of her excess energy while she and Quinn were constantly worrying about their figures.

                Santana remembered her mom telling her that the person that she had been at the end of her senior year of high school, wasn’t the same person she’d been freshman year of high school, and it was true. The Santana from Freshman year would have never fallen in love with Brittany, let alone Quinn. The Quinn from Freshman year would have been hard pressed to find anyone to love her, beyond her looks. They changed, every year, and some years they had liked each other, and some years the changes had pushed them apart. Like magnets.

                Santana was sweaty and out of breath when she returned to the house, and her phone was just lighting up with Quinn’s name. Santana hesitated before she answered. “Hey, I was just coming over, what’s up?”

                The desperation in Quinn’s voice instantly put her on edge. Kelly, hell all of them, had really been on edge lately. Had something finally happened? Kelly’s car was in the drive when she pulled up to the Richardson home, and Santana felt her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. _He wouldn’t.._.

                She heard angry shouting and a moment later saw Kelly emerge from upstairs.

                “What’s going on, Kellen?” Santana questioned.

                Kellen turned his blood shot eyes on Santana. He lunged forward a few steps, but then was past her and slamming the door before Santana could piece it together. With thoughts only of Quinn’s earlier desperation and of her safety, she rushed upstairs to check on her friend. When Santana saw her, all she wanted to do was gather her into her arms and hold her. In her mind, all of the Santanas, in all of the universes, and all of the galaxies looked at all of the Quinns, and thought resoundingly _yes_. _That’s_ _her_.

                Quinn’s legs gave out and Santana surged forward to capture her. She felt it the moment that Quinn was in her arms. If moments before death your life flashes before your eyes, then moments after falling, your love flashes before your eyes, and Santana saw every past moment with this person in a new light. It was like the shadows had switched, had changed, were showing her different angles so that she was seeing the same thing, but in a completely different way. Her heart ached, and she held Quinn tighter so that she didn’t shatter herself. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

                Quinn’s eyes flickered, and she stared at Santana for a long time before tuning her head into Santana’s body and cried.

                Santana rubbed a hand along Quinn’s back, smoothing down her hair. “ _Come Josephine in my flying machine, and it’s up she goes. Up she goes.”_ she sang quietly, while she waited for Quinn to get her cry out.

                After what felt like hours, the sobs subsided. Quinn turned her face up to look at Santana. “It’s over.”

                Santana’s hand didn’t pause. “What’s over?”

                “My marriage.”

                Santana wiped a few tears away. “Why do you say that, love? What happened?”

                “I fell in love,” she whispered. Santana bit down on the bile that was rising in her throat. Quinn held on to her gaze, and Santana felt like time stopped. “With you,” she said, even quieter. “I’m in love with you, Santana.”

                Santana wanted to look anywhere but at Quinn, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.  “You can’t be.”

                “I am! For years, I’ve wondered if Kellen was cheating, and so today I followed him-,” Quinn didn’t notice Santana pulling away, “And there was this girl.”

                “And that made you realize you loved me,” Santana questioned, weakly. “Because Kelly was cheating?”

                “No. And yes, but Kelly wasn’t cheating. He said something to me, and it made me think. He said that I was thinking that he was cheating, because I wanted it to be so. Because I wanted an excuse to not be in this marriage anymore, because I was looking for a reason to be with you.”

                “Quinn-,”

                “And it’s true! I didn’t realize it was true, but it is. I’ve wanted to be with since you came home from Lesbos, since you held my hand on the train, since you held me at prom; I don't know how long, but it’s true. All, this time, it was like you said. I was in the wrong orbit. It took me awhile to get back to the right one, but it’s you, Santana. I know, now, that it’s you.”

                Santana was looking green around the gills. “Because Kelly was cheating?”

                “He wasn’t-,”

                Santana shook her head. “He was,” she whispered, softly. “I…oh, for fuck’s sake, Fabray. You and your goddamn timing!”

                Quinn drew back. “I don’t understand.”

                She’s not sure if she would have actually explained, but she didn’t get the chance to. That queasy feeling in her stomach rose, and Santana pulled away from Quinn, rushing for the bathroom on the other side of the house. She just made it before she emptied the contents of her stomach.

 

(Leave your lover)

                Santana left Quinn’s, without a word to her. She didn’t know what to say. She drove back to her rental, fighting tears.

                She stopped when she saw Kelly’s car. He got out when she did, and walked up to the front door without a word being said. “You here to kill me?” Santana half-heartedly joked.

                Kellen looked like the burning man, barely holding on. She let him into the rental. He followed her into the room, where she started to pack.

                “You’re actually leaving?”

                Santana didn’t look at him. “What does it look like?”

                “It’s over, Santana.”

                Santana nodded, stuffing at random. “It is.”

                Kelly came up behind her, placing a hand on top of hers. Santana only stilled because she had to. She found herself leaning into him. “I can’t deal with this right now, Kelly. I can’t, and I refuse to be the reason that you and Quinn…if you don’t want to be with her, and she doesn’t want to be with you, fine, but I won’t be the reason.”

                Arms went around her. “Please don’t leave. She’s going to need you. _I_ need you.”

                She pulled away.

                Santana finished packing the last of her things. She called Uber, and handed Kelly the keys. “It’s yours until September 1st.” Santana awkwardly maneuvered her way down the stairs. “If you need a place to stay.”

 

(Leave him for me)

                Santana lay on her back expectantly, heart in her throat. She’d been here before, and she didn’t want to be excited, but she couldn’t help herself. The doctor turned on the volume, and there it was. A steady thrum. The doctor smiled at Santana. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

                Santana closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound. She could feel the sound filling up every part of who she was. She opened her eyes when she felt a tap on her shoulder. The doctor pointed to the screen. “And that’s your baby.”

                Any cautioning that she had done to temper her enthusiasm flew out the window. She had been here before, she didn’t want to hope, but she felt like her world was exploding open. She was looking at her baby _. Hers._

                When she left the office, Santana carried the sonogram with her, clutched in her fist. Her phone rang in her pocket. She didn’t even look at who was calling before she declined the call. She looked  down at the picture in her hand. “It’s just me and you, baby,” she whispered.

                _And it’s up she goes._


	4. Lay me down

 

_**(Yes, I do)** _

The sun shone down on a happy family playing in the park. A woman in her mid-thirties, with fading streaks of blonde hair mixed in with the mostly brown, stood beside an older, red-headed man. They were an attractive, well dressed couple, standing in comfortable approximation of each other while they watched three children, one with dark red hair, one light brown, and the third with deep dark brown hair with red undertones that were only visible when the sun caught them, play. The red headed child was attempting to set up a game while the middle child, a chubby brunette, danced gleefully away from his little sister. The girl ran after him, doing her best to keep up with him on her shorter legs, her little hands balled up into little fists.

"Ky!" she shouted indignantly as she ran. "Come back here afores I ends you!"

Kellen and Quinn both laughed at their two-year-old, Kelly because he knew the aggressive sentiment was the direct result of Santana, and Quinn because she remembered those words and life really had a way of coming at you full circle. "Dear God," Quinn mumbled.

Suddenly, the baby, Selena, fell down, and she instantly started crying. Before Quinn could take more than a few strides in that direction, Kyle turned on the spot and rushed back to his little sister's side to make sure that she was okay. He kneeled beside her. "Don't cry, Sel, it's okay," he cooed. "You're okay."

Quinn sprinted to them, only to be stopped by a hand held up by Kyle when she got there. "I've got it, mommy," he assured her. Quinn's eyebrows rose, but she wasn't surprised. Kyle was very protective of his younger sister. Although the two of them went at it like cats and dogs, no one looked out for each other more than those two. They could get in fights with each other, they could be mean and play tricks on the other, but that right was only reserved for the two of them and no one else. If anyone dared to hurt one of them, the other was on them faster than a blink. Quinn had lost track of how many times she had punished the two of them for a crime she knew only one of them had committed because they refused to turn on each other. The threat of getting in trouble wouldn't even make them budge; if either of them was going to get in trouble, they were going to get in trouble together.

Luke rolled his eyes at the whole scene, and went rushing off to play with some of the other kids on the playground.

Selena's tears dried as she didn't take her eyes off Kyle. Kyle kissed the scraped knee. "See, Sel," he said. "All better." Selena nodded, dusted herself off, and immediately pushed Kyle over. "Ow! Why'd you do that!"

"It's your fault I fell down, Ky! You took my twuck!"

Kyle pouted, rubbing his bottom. "Mom!"

"Oh no, you two work this out. You got this, remember?"

Beside her, Kelly snickered, and Quinn hid her smile. "Dear lord, what have we done," she joked. She turned on Kelly as the kids rushed off to get into some more trouble. "I don't know why you're laughing. Are you sure you're going to be able to handle these three by yourself?"

Looking a lot like their middle child, he postured. "I got this," he assured.

Quinn placed a kiss on Kelly's cheek. "I know you do."

They let their children play for a few minutes longer before Kelly's voice carried across the playground. "Luke! Kyle, Selena. Come say bye to mommy!"

Selena immediately took exception to Kelly's choice of words. "It's not good-bye, mommy, it's see you later. Right, Ky?"

"Yeah, mommy, you're not supposed to say good-bye!" he admonished.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot."

She leaned down and lathed both of their faces in kisses, until she was stopped by a hug from her oldest.

"Santana said good-bye," Luke said, solemnly.

Kelly's voice pulled her from her children's attentions. "You sure you don't want us to come to the airport?"

"No. Packing them all in just to have a hurried good-bye is too much aggravation on everyone's part, and it's such a nice day. They should be able to enjoy it. I'm okay taking a cab. Thanks Kelly. I love you."

The kids gave her a little more love to take with her. Kelly smiled. It had taken them a few years, but it was nice to have her best friend back. "Love you, too," he said sincerely.

* * *

 

**_(I believe)_ **

Quinn lied to Kelly. Well, not so much as lied, but omitted a part of her plans. Yes, she was going to be gone for two weeks, but she wasn't going straight to her designation. She had a stop she had to make first.

Quinn got a rental at the airport. She stopped at the florist stand to buy a bouquet of flowers before continuing to the cemetery plot. The grave that the was seeking was in between a 90-year-old gentleman, and a 36 year old school teacher. She briefly wondered how each of them had died. 90 years was a lot of years to have accumulated, 36…that was just too close to her age. Quinn took a moment to speculate on her own mortality; if she were to die tomorrow. Her heart hurt just at the thought of never getting to see Beth, (who was a teenager and getting nearer and nearer to graduation every day), Luke, Kyle, or Selena again. Of never getting to see them grow older, of never seeing what kind of adults they would grow up to be.

Quinn brushed away the tears that were silently dripping from her eyes as they fell on the grave that she came to see. Another person who had died way too young. The gravestone was a no-frills gravestone, the inscription classic and straight to the point. The years marking the birth and the death a stark reminder that we only get so long on this earth so you might as well make the best of it. The grave was well kept, and there were flowers that were only slightly wilting. As Quinn replaced them with the fresh ones she brought, she momentarily wondered who had put the ones there before her.

It was eerily silent all around her. There was a tree nearby, and a bird that seemed intent on watching her, but otherwise she was alone. Carefully she kneeled in front of the grave.

"Well, here we are," she said into the afternoon. She toyed with the rings on her left hand. There were two there, a small diamond ring, and her wedding band. She also realized she was still wearing the ring one of the kids had gotten from a kids' meal, and she smiled slightly at the cheap plastic surrounding her thumb.

"Hi. I don't think I ever properly did this, so I know it's long overdue. It's still hard to adequately wrap my head around the fact that you're gone. One minute you were here, and the next you were gone. We had managed to move on from every bad thing that we did to each other, and I imagined we had another forty years or more, at least, to work things out. I can't say that I was prepared when I heard the news, but there's no way you can prepare for when your world gets shattered is there? I never saw Beth, or that car, coming.

"When someone young is taken away, you look for the reason, you try to find the way that this makes sense. I guess the only lesson to be found here is that sometimes there's just no logic to life. I've learned a lot, since you died. A lot about myself. A lot about others and the world. I thought that just going through it, without taking the time to consider how other people felt, was okay, because it didn't hurt anyone. But it does. Ignoring a problem is a luxury that many people don't have.

"I learned how to love. How to love me, how to love someone else. Amazing, huh? I know you thought of me as a selfish bitch. But we're all kind of selfish, aren't we? You were, and so was I. Is it to contrite to say that selfishness is just another form of self-preservation?

"You probably won't believe this, but for a long time I thought about the life that we would have together. I did. At times the only thing I could picture with any certainty was the future that we would have together. You, me. Raising our little girl together. I always knew it'd be a girl."

Quinn paused, as if waiting for an answer, but of course there was none. "When you want something so bad that you can taste it, sometimes you don't care what you have to do in order to get it. I've been selfish, we've all have. I'm sorry for any pain my selfishness caused you. I'm sorry that I lied to you about her, about everything. I'm sorry that you died.

"If it's okay with you, I'm going to do my best to stop feeling guilty about the fact that you died, and stop feeling guilty about things I don't control. If it's okay with you, I'm allowing myself to live for myself for the first time in my life, to love as much as I can, to allow myself to be loved the way I want to be loved.

"I know I'm late in saying this, but good-bye. Thank you for the few short years that you were in my life, and thank you for the brief love that you showed me. I forgave you, a long time ago, and I ask that you forgive me as well. Even if you can't, I forgive myself, and I think that's even more important."

Quinn waited, as if to hear some last departing words from the dead, but there were none. She bid one last goodbye before she got back up to her knees, got in her rental, and high tailed it to the airport, late, but in just enough time to catch her flight to LA.

* * *

 

_**(Where I was)** _

_3 years ago_

_"_ I'm in love with you, Santana _." Quinn kept hearing those words replayed in her head, over and over again._ "I'm in love with you _."_

_The door closing behind Santana had been the worst sound that Quinn had heard in a very long time. She hadn't slammed it, but in her heart, it felt like she did. Quinn had finally realized that she was in love with Santana and had worked up the courage to tell her…and it had gotten her nothing._

_Wrong. It had gotten her a 'for fuck's sake,' as if that statement had single-handedly been the stupidest thing that had ever come out of Quinn's mouth. Oh, and then and Santana went running from the room as if she couldn't stand to be in Quinn's presence any more. Quinn had made a long of mistakes in her life, but she was pretty sure that this one came pretty damn close to taking the cake. Her husband had walked out on her, and so had her best friend._

_Quinn eventually remembered her boys, and she went to retrieve them. Luke kept looking around Quinn as if he expected to see someone else there, and when he couldn't find who he was looking for, he finally demanded, "Where's Auntie Tana?"_

_Quinn felt like her heart was breaking again. "She had an emergency and had to go back home."_

_His lower lip jutted out. "Without even saying good-bye?"_

_"She wanted me to tell you for her."_

_Angrily, Luke crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not the same thing."_

_Quinn wished that she was till little enough to throw her own tantrum. "No baby," Quinn agreed. "It's not."_

* * *

 

_**(Right there, right next to you)** _

Quinn felt nothing but anxious as she waited in line to board her plane. She pulled out her phone, smiling at the background picture, and upon seeing her family's smiling faces, she couldn't help but dial Kellen's phone number. She wanted to hear each of their voices and give them her love one last time before she was incommunicado for the next several hours.

"Hey, Quinn? Everything okay?" Kellen questioned, when the phone line connected.

Quinn nodded, a gesture he couldn't see through the phone. "Yea. I just wanted to talk to my babies one last time."

Kellen gave a chuckle, and she was once again amazed that this is where the two of them were right now. A couple of years ago, her life was a shambles; everything was falling apart. She was on the verge of divorce, of losing her family and of losing her best friend. Now…she was very much happy in her marriage, happy in her family, and happy in her life. It hadn't happened at all the way that she expected it to happen, but the thing was that it happened, and she couldn't have possibly been happier; despite how it did.

* * *

 

_**(And it's hard)** _

_Over the next couple of days, Quinn was at a loss. She thought that her confession of love to Santana would have ended with the two of them together and making their way to happily ever after. But no. Santana was gone. Kelly was gone. Kelly was, apparently, sleeping in Santana's rental, and Santana was back in Hawaii, possibly forever. She didn't have either of them, but she had the boys. She was suddenly a married single mother._

_Kyle was too young to be aware of what was going on, but Luke wondered where daddy was, and had not really accepted that Aunt Tana went back to Hawaii early without saying anything._

_Kelly showed up to take the boys a week later, and then she really was alone. It had been so very long since Quinn was completely by herself, that she didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't know who she was, not really. Most of her life she had framed herself in relation to other things. Since she had been married to Kellen, she was Lucy Richardson, or Kellen's wife, but before that she was a Cheerio, and Russell and Judy's daughter. A Fabray. She was no longer a Fabray, no longer really Russell and Judy's wife, high school had been so very long ago, and she was very soon no longer Kelly's wife, so what did that make her? Who did that make her?_

_She had been rescued from the life she would have had, had she married someone like Biff, thanks to Santana (and the other Glee members), and then she'd found Kelly. Kelly had given her such a good life. He had restored her faith in men, in that a man could be kind, could be sincere, could be worth the time. He had repaired a lot of the damage that her parents had wrecked in her life._

_But Quinn had never really spent any time trying to repair herself._

_All this time Santana had been off on her own little spirit journey, Quinn had never taken the same time, or even a fraction of it, trying to figure out who she was. She wasn't, she woke up one day startled to realize, a housewife who lived in a colonial house, who liked to dress her boys in chinos and polos. She did love that her business, small enough to be manageable, but large enough to be able to afford a semi-comfortable living without Kelly, could be run from home so that she didn't have to send the kids to daycare if she didn't want to. But she realized, too, that she didn't want much more than that. She didn't want her kids to go to private school and have a very sheltered view of the world. She didn't want her kids to grow up thinking that money equated love, and the more money you had, the better of a person you were. The house that they had moved into outside of the city was too picture perfect, too magazine. Quinn realized she wouldn't mind something more rustic, more down home. Quinn had always thought that the woman she had become was the woman that she wanted to be, but now he was beginning to realize that no, it wasn't._

_With that realization came a mourning period. It's not every day you have to give up yourself._

_It took her a week to realize, another to come to grips with it, and two more for her to have the courage to admit that even if she didn't get to have Santana in her life, (and it was looking very much like that would be the case), that she didn't deserve to have Kelly in hers. Well, not even that, but that Kelly didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to have someone who wasn't full steam in his life. He didn't deserve to have to live through a marriage when Quinn was in love with someone else. Just like Santana wasn't a random fuck, Kellen wasn't her random prince. He was a good…no, a great guy; but he wasn't her knight, and she had never needed to be rescued._

_Even if she and Santana never got together, what she had with her husband was over._

* * *

 

_**(The days just seem so dark)** _

_Quinn knocked on the door of Kelly friend, Addison Fletcher's, house. Kelly had moved here when the lease on Santana's rental had expired. She knew Kelly would be there, but still she was surprised when he was the one to answer the door. She was expecting the small buffer of another human being before she came face to face with her husband, but no._

_This wasn't their first meeting since he'd left; they might have not been talking, but they still had two kids together. Kellen hadn't disappeared from their lives, only from hers._

_"Hi, Kellen."_

_The warmth that he always exuded towards her was currently missing. "Quinn."_

_"How are you?"_

_Kelly looked at the flowers in Quinn's hand. She'd brought him roses. "I've been better," he answered. He didn't ask her how she'd been._

_"Can we talk?"_

_They went out to a restaurant. Quinn watched Kelly sitting across from her, blue shirt, silver tie, red hair that never fully allowed itself to be tamed. He had been her life for nearly a decade. He had patiently waited for her to come around, courted her, married her._

_"I'm sorry," Quinn began. She had hoped to be more elegant, but seeing him sitting there, she needed to say that, first and foremost. "I want you to know I do love you."_

_Kellen paused before picking up his napkin and pulling it on his lap. He didn't say anything, because they hadn't gotten to that part yet._

_"I want you to know why I love you, Kelly. I've never been really good at relationships. I cheated on my first boyfriend with his best friend, and then I ended up pregnant. Then I cheated on my next boyfriend, with my first boyfriend. After that I felt this weird chemistry with a guy in a wheelchair, and the guy who helped me walk again, and I dated my professor, then a blue blood asshole, then my baby's daddy." Seeing it all laid out in front of her…Santana was right, she had a thing for stupid boys._

_"Anyway, Kelly, the thing is, you've been the first relationship that I've ever even been remotely good at, and I still managed to foul it up, royally. The problem is me. I was chasing this image of what I thought life should be, and I never stopped and thought about what life actually was. Or what_ I _wanted from it. I love you, I loved you because you made me feel loved, and important, and special. I loved you because you were all I thought I ever wanted. I loved you because you're simply the best guy I know."_

_"But you're not in love with me anymore?"_

_"Kellen-,"_

_"Because of Santana?"_

_"This isn't about her, Kellen. I do love you. This relationship we have, it was real. It was very real to me. You were my best friend, you were the best guy I could have ever asked for. You're so patient, and loving, and so kind." Kelly started to melt, tears stinging his eyes. "You were a good husband, and a great father. You are a great father."_

_Quinn reached for his hand across the table. "When I said our vows, I meant every word. I need you to know that. I never thought we'd spend anything less than forever together, otherwise I wouldn't have said 'I do'. I did love you, and there's no easy way to do this,"_

_He pulled his hand away. "We reached the station, didn't we?"_

_Quinn nodded. "I am so sorry, Kelly."_

_Kelly winced at the words. Kelly looked down at his hands. "Tell me something, Quinn. And actually be honest with me. Did you…I know what you just said, but be honest. Did you ever love me?"_

_"I loved you every second that we were married."_

_"Then what happened? How does that just…end?"_

_Quinn wondered if anyone had an answer to that. "It doesn't. I still love you, Kelly. I swear that I do. Just not in that way that I did when we said our vows. I didn't realize that that was the case, and without meaning to I realize that I've been hurting you. I don't want to do that to you anymore."_

_"What does this mean for us?"_

_"I think we should file for a divorce."_

_"Quinn," Kelly seemed to rethink what he was about to say. "Is this so you can be with her?"_

_"Santana hasn't even talked to me since I told her I loved her, so no. This is so we can stop hurting each other."_

_After a prolonged moment, Kellen gave a resigned nod. "I knew we'd be here someday," he said. He plucked at his little hemp bracelet. "I tried to deny it to myself; me and Santana got into arguments about it even."_

_"You two got in arguments about…?" Quinn's brow furrowed. "What'd you two get into arguments about?"_

_He gave a humorless chuckle. "I told her that eventually you'd leave me for her."_

_Quinn wasn't exactly sure what it was, but she felt like something was breaking in side of her at the words. "And she said?" she demanded, harshly._

_"That that'd never happen, and even if it did, it didn't matter because she didn't choose you."_

_Quinn had nearly forgotten how to block her emotions from showing on her face. "She said that?"_

_Kellen nodded. "She did."_

_"W-why would she say that?"_

_"I don't know," he answered. He stopped playing with his bracelet. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I want you to be happy; I want us both to be happy, and I don't know, I don't know how that works out. I've always loved you, I'm sure that I always will. We started a family together. I don't want this ride we're on to ever end."_

_Quinn's mind was too full to fully hear what Kelly was saying. Santana had told Kelly that she hadn't chosen her? Why would she tell him that? Why would she say that? But what she really wanted to know was why hadn't she chosen Quinn? It made sense, then, that it was Santana who had walked away from the both of them. Quinn might not have opened her eyes, but Santana was the one who had actually left. Had she just imagined that Santana had loved her, too?_

_Quinn forced a grimace. "I don't want it to either," she said._

* * *

 

_**(The moon, and the stars)** _

_Their, Kellen and Quinn's, house in the suburbs was far enough from the bright lights of New York City for them to be able to see considerably more stars than she could from, say, Rachel's balcony in Manhattan. After a long afternoon of talking with Kelly, Quinn took a walk around her neighborhood, underneath a full moon, and a sky full of stars. She had learned to recognize a few more of the constellations by now, thanks to Santana's obsession, but they held no interest to her, unless it was Santana talking incessantly about them. She had kind of always overlooked Santana's passion, but right at the moment she was missing it terribly._

_She pulled out her phone, and dialed Santana's phone number. The call went to voice mail. She wasn't expecting Santana to answer it; it still didn't hurt any less when she didn't. She thought back to that time when they were fresh out of high school, and newly minted adults, when she had avoided Santana like the plague, even when Quinn could hear her moving around in the background of her and Rachel's conversations. She never thought about how that'd felt from Santana's view point. She could say now that it felt like absolute shit._

_When she got back to the house Quinn called Santana through her computer using her Google account. She was surprised, and a little angry, when Santana quickly picked up the unknown number._

_"Hello? This is Santana Lopez."_

_For a few seconds Quinn was too hurt and angry to say anything, but then she found her voice. "You told Kellen that you didn't choose me?"_

_She heard Santana sigh on the other side of the phone. "Well good for Kelly. Hello to you, too, Quinn."_

_"Did you?"_

_"I did."_

_"Why would you say that?"_

_Quinn could only imagine Santana's face, and it broke her heart wide open. "Because I didn't. Everybody and their mother was sitting here telling me that you're in love with me, that you just don't know it yet, and that as soon as you say the words I'm going to go rush off to be with you, but I'm not. I'm sorry, but I'm not. No one ever seemed to think about the situation from my view point; I didn't spend the last seven years of my life waiting around for you to decide that you wanted to be with me. I blindly followed Brittany around, sacrificing my future for her whims, and I never really took the time to figure out who I was, and what I wanted. I wasn't about to do that again. I've spent the last seven years of my life living."_

_She gave a soft laugh. "I've been doing me. I got my doctorate, I've written some books, I may even get my own half-hour show on PBS that probably only six people will watch, but I did that, Quinn. Without anyone telling me that that was my path in life. I lived, and I'm going to continue to live."_

_"And I'm happy for you, babe. I never said I wasn't. I never said that you were just waiting for me to come around, either!"_

_"You told me you loved me right after telling me that you thought Kelly was cheating on you."_

_"Only because I just realized-,"_

_"And you just suddenly were missing me when, again, you thought Kelly was cheating on you?"_

_"T-that," Quinn did realize how bad that was. "I'm sorry, Santana."_

_"Me, too."_

_"I'm not very good at relationships apparently. I mess them all up."_

_Santana sighed. "Don't go trying to steal all the blame when there's plenty enough to go around for everyone. I'm not blaming you for anything. That's not what this is. That's not what this is about."_

_"Then what is this about? Why did you leave and stop talking to me?"_

_"I can't…right now. Just understand that, please. I can't. I have to go."_

_"Wait." There was one other thing Quinn needed to know. "Santana?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Why did you say 'good for Kelly'?"_

_There was that little humorless chuckle. "Because he's finally fighting for you the way that I always wished he would."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"If he'd actually given up on the two of you, he wouldn't have bothered telling you that I said I didn't choose you. Please don't end your marriage because of me, Quinn. You and Kelly love each other, don't throw it away on nothing."_

_Quinn wanted to tell her that she wasn't 'nothing', but the words never made it to her lips._

_"Listen, Quinn, I will always be your friend, but right now, if you need someone to go running to, please let it be Mercedes or Rachel, okay? It can't be me."_

_Quinn nodded, tears rushing down her face, before she realized that Santana couldn't actually see her. "Okay," she said, right before the phone hung up._

* * *

 

_**(Are nothing without you)** _

_Santana's radio silence apparently didn't extend to Luke, Kyle, or even Kelly. Quinn found out, later, that Santana had spoken to Luke for more than half an hour several weeks ago. Luke told her that his 'Auntie Tana' had apologized for leaving, and apparently planned to make it up to him. Even the baby had gotten to 'speak' to her._

_Quinn had to remind herself that she had gone this long without talking to each other before. She had to remind herself that she'd gone longer. That when Santana was darting all over the world with Brittany, that Quinn hadn't spoken to her for over a year, and back in high school. It hadn't lasted as long as the Lesbos silence, but it sure felt like forever._

_Quinn wanted to call her up the day that she and Kelly went through arbitration. Because of the connections that she had through her husband, Quinn had no shortage of lawyers that she could have chosen from to handle her divorce, but she wanted to keep things between them as amicable as was possible: they had kids together. It wouldn't do any body any good if they went at it every time they came across each other, and there was the potential for things to get really ugly._

_Kelly had brought considerably more to the marriage than Quinn had. Although he was not a partner in the firm, his father was, and when his father stepped away Kelly would be. Since Quinn had only been emotionally withdrawing, and had not actually cheated, and since Kelly had actually been the one to step outside of the marriage, she had some designs on his wealth, but she didn't want anything from him. They agreed to joint custody, and to sell the house, but to wait until Quinn was able to find something nearby that Quinn could afford._

_Quinn wanted to call her the day that she was looking at the divorce papers in front of her and realized that this was actually happening._

_Quinn wanted to call her the day that she slipped her wedding and engagement rings off, and the first time she corrected someone that she was Ms. Richardson, instead of Mrs._

_She wanted to call to find out how Santana was doing._

_She wanted to call to tell Santana how Luke and Kyle were doing._

_She wanted to call Santana, just because she had come so used to her being in her life that she couldn't fathom that she wasn't going to be._

_She wanted to call to see where they stood._

_She wanted to call, just to hear Santana's voice._

_But Quinn's phone stayed silent._

_So Quinn didn't call._

_But in the end, Quinn went to her._

* * *

 

_**(Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?)** _

_Quinn was greeted with the smiling face of Santana when she opened the door, the smile quickly fading from her face when she saw that it was Quinn. Santana's eyes took her in, at the same time Quinn's did. Quinn missed the look of longing in Santana's gaze, because her own eyes narrowed at the wideness of Santana's face, and stopped when they fell to Santana's body. She wasn't wearing much clothing, but even if she had, it would have been impossible to miss._

_"You should have called," Santana said sharply._

_"I did; you stopped answering my calls."_

_"Then you should have taken the hint."_

_There was a sudden noise from behind Santana. "Mami, what's going on?"_

_Santana was joined at the door by a thin woman with black hair, wearing a black, silk teddy. It covered everything that should be covered, but just barely. There was more olive brown skin on display than wasn't. The smile Santana gave her was painful for Quinn to see. As were the words she spoke next: "Sylvia, babe, give me a second?"_

_The woman gave Quinn the elevator eyes, before stepping back a few steps. Santana rolled her own eyes, and kissed her on the forehead. "Behave," she purred, giving her ass a slap before she stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. It hurt that Santana was coming out to her, instead of inviting her in. She was drawing a clear line in the sand; Sylvia and everything behind that door was Santana's world, and Quinn was not invited into it. Was this the spark girl? "Who is that?" she demanded. She realized, and didn't care, how possessive she sounded._

_"Her first name is My, her middle name is Business, and her last is Not Yours."_

_She was used to Santana's barbs; it didn't stop them from hurting. "Real mature, Santana."_

_"I don't have to be mature when I'm standing on my own front porch, and you were not invited. What are you doing here, Quinn?"_

_"What do you think?"_

_"I think you don't know how to take a hint."_

_"You're right, I don't," Quinn agreed. Quinn looked her over again. Her hands itched to touch her; Santana pregnant was every bit as beautiful as she had imagined that it would be. It pained her that she hadn't been there from the moment Santana found out to this moment right now._

_She took off her jacket and put it around Santana's shoulders._

_"What're you doing?"_

_"You're standing out in the open in a nightgown."_

_Santana laughed. "What worried about the neighbors? Do you see any?"_

_To Quinn's surprise, though, Santana actually humored her, pulling the coat around her as much as she could. It didn't fit all the way around, though, because of the very big belly that was in the way. It had been five months since she saw Santana, and judging from her three pregnancies, she'd put Santana at six or seven months; Santana was pregnant when she was in New York. Was this what Santana had meant about timing?_

_Quinn slowly drew her eyes away, landing on Santana's who was watching her closely._

_"Who is she?" she repeated._

_Santana's returning look was smug. "You ask that as if you have any right to know." Quinn waited. "Of course you don't remember her, do you? That's Sylvia Johannes. From college?"_

_"You didn't invite me to spend time with your college friends, remember?"_

_"I don't recall you asking to, either."_

_Quinn could feel the frustration building up inside of her; this was not going how she expected it to go at all. "Is this how things are going to be between us from now on? I don't get what you want, Santana! What, are we just not friends anymore? Do you not want me in your life?" Santana did falter at that. "Because the thought of you not being in my life anymore, I can't think of anything more painful than that. But you refuse to answer my calls, my texts, even my letters."_

_"I'm not the person that you need to be talking to."_

_"You're my best friend."_

_"And you're divorcing mine!"_

_Santana looked like she hadn't meant to say the words, but she wasn't about to take them back, either._

_"I didn't realize you and Kelly were that close," she said, crisply._

_"You don't always pay attention," Santana dismissed. "I can't get in the way of your marriage."_

_"You don't have to worry about that! Kelly and I are getting a divorce. Papers have been signed and everything."_

_Santana sighed, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. She honestly just wanted to just close the door on this, and get back to what she was doing, but she knew if she did that, things would truly be over, even on a friendly level, with her and Quinn, and she honestly didn't want that._

_"Why are you here?" It was a plead._

_"Because I love you." Santana looked like she was going to say something, so Quinn quickly cut her off. "You don't have to say it back, you… don't have to love me back, but I need you to know that. I need you to hear me say it, to your face, with no coercion. I'm saying this without a safety net, I'm saying this with no one else in my life, no one waiting in the wings, no one but you. I love you. I want to be with you, and if we can't be together, if there's a Sylvia, or that spark girl, or whatever, fine, but please don't take your friendship away."_

_The last part came out barely audible as Quinn lost all sense of composure. Santana softened considerably, pulling Quinn into her arms. "Shit, Quinn, don't cry."_

_Santana's protruding belly prevented Quinn from getting as close as she wanted to her friend._

_"You didn't even tell me you were pregnant! Didn't you think that I'd want to be there, that I'd want to support you as much as you've supported me through the years?"_

_Santana pulled away. "Why would you be there to support me? You didn't want me to do this in the first place."_

_"I said that because if you did ever go through with doing this, I wanted to be there with you. Really there with you. Ever since you held Luke in your arms, I wanted to see you swollen with child, with my child. Our child. I didn't want you to do it alone."_

_Santana folded her arms around herself. "I didn't."_

_"What?"_

_"I wasn't alone."_

_Quinn didn't realize that her heart could sink any further than it did, but she was proven wrong again and again. "Who? Sylvia?"_

_"Kelly." Quinn wasn't prepared for that. "He was an asshole about it, but he was there. He was there when I got my consult, he was there when I started hormone therapy, he was there when I miscarried-,"_

_"You had a miscarriage?"_

_Santana nodded, sadness lining her features. Quinn wished more than anything that there was something she could do to erase that pain from Santana's life. "I did."_

_"When?"_

_"Before Kyle was born."_

_"I'm sorry, Santana, I didn't know."_

_"Because I didn't tell you," Santana said, not unkindly. "You called though, on the day it happened. And then again on the anniversary. You didn't realize that you did, but you did._

_"This was something I wanted to do for me; I didn't need your opinion, or your permission, this was something that I needed to do for me."_

_"Do you really think so lowly of me?" Quinn demanded._

_Santana sighed. "I wasn't there for you, why would you be here for me?" she questioned rhetorically. "The thing about it is it didn't have anything to do with you, Quinn. And I rather not have had to deal with your outrage over not being included when I was dealing with losing my baby, you know?"_

_Quinn felt what seemed like ever pressing guilt well up, because she didn't doubt that she would have made it about her, at least initially. Right now her best friend was pregnant and her first thought was how could she do this without her. (And even if she didn't say it out loud, she was still wondering that)._

_"And with what was going on with you and Kelly; I love you, and I love Kelly. Your family is like my family."_

_"We are family."_

_"Which is exactly why I can't get in between the two of you. Especially when exposure to hi levels of stress could have been fatal to the baby. I've already had one miscarriage, I'm not signing up for another."_

_They were interrupted by another car pulling to a stop on the gravelly drive. Two women stepped out, both wearing bedtime wear and high heels. One was wearing a skimpy white negligee, and her bigger companion was wearing a less revealing, but bright pink one piece. "Hey, mamas!" The pink woman called, waving a bottle of wine. "We're not late are we?"_

_Santana smiled widely. "No, right on time."_

_"She's lying," the white negligee said. "We're late as hell, aren't we? I told you not to take that road!"_

_Quinn could tell that the smile Santana gave them wasn't fake at all. She was happy they were here. "Seriously, you guys are good. Go on inside, I'll be there in a second."_

_The pink, one piece stopped in the doorway. "You're Quinn, aren't you?"_

_Thankfully, the white negligee pushed open the door, pulling her companion with her. "Inside. Vatos."_

_"It's vamos."_

_"That's what I said."_

_Santana laughed as they closed the door behind them. When it was just the two of them once again, Santana gave her a very pointed look. Quinn didn't need it spelled out for her. "I won't keep you from your friends any longer," she said._

_Santana stood on the porch and watched her awkwardly attempt to maneuver the car around the other cars. She stayed standing there until the house was no longer in sight. For all Quinn knew, Santana was still standing on her front step, watching Quinn drive away._

_No words can explain,_

_Quinn was at a loss as she left Santana's. She hadn't thought this out past her making her grand declaration of love. She hadn't thought about what would happen later. She hadn't thought about finding a hotel, or booking a return flight. She definitely didn't anticipate finding out that her supposed best friend was pregnant, and that her husband had apparently known all about it. Knew and probably had a hands-on approach in the whole thing._

_That was something else that Quinn had to process. What did that mean? Was it the same as cheating? Could a husband offer up his stud services to another woman without the wife's permission? (Quinn looked it up, and no the man was not legally bound to tell his wife if he was going to give away his sperm before he did)._

_All this time the two of them had essentially been lying behind her back. The amount of betrayal she felt was off the charts. She spent a whole day in bed, just sobbing and going back over her life with both Kelly and Santana, wondering what was real, what was true. She was sharply reminded of that feeling that she'd gotten when Kelly had told her that he had cheated, but the betrayal felt so much stronger, because she trusted Santana._

_Karma really was a bitch because wasn't this exactly what she had done to Finn? Gave him this image of a future, then snatched it away once he had fallen for it? Betrayed him with his best friend._

* * *

 

_**(The way I'm missing you)** _

_Quinn wondered what proper protocol was for moving on. She had heard of people compare a break up to someone dying. She'd experienced death, and while it didn't really compare, she could still see how that correlation could be made. When you entered into a relationship with someone, it was like a birth. It was the start of a new person, one that was part you, and part your partner. You invest in that person. The more time that you put into the relationship, the more you see yourself growing with that person, you see a future with that person. And then when it's over…_

_The question of the hour was where did all that missing love go?_

_Santana wasn't dead, but was Santana really removing herself from her life? It was bad enough when Santana moved to Hawaii. Was Quinn expected to just accept that things between her and Santana were over? For good?_

_She had gone longer periods without speaking to her, but this time felt like, it felt like Quinn was living through a veil, and only every third breath was actually supplying air to her lungs. She went looking through every single picture album, through every single picture the two of them had ever taken together, and although Santana wasn't dead, it felt like she was mourning her._

_Her divorce was finalized a week form the day that she came back from her failure of a trip to Hawaii. She remembered every detail about the way that Kellen looked when they'd gotten married. He had used Blaine levels of hair gel to get his hair to lay flat on his forehead. He was dashing; he looked like Prince Harry. He didn't look away from her even once, as she walked down the aisle to him. His brother had stood proudly beside him, and his sister had stood up on Quinn's side, behind Santana and Brittany. His family had welcomed her in._

_She didn't kid herself that she still had a place among them._

_Quinn didn't know if she was supposed to celebrate or mourn the end of her marriage. If she was supposed to go out and half a drink because it was over, or celebrate that it had happened. She went to a bar, still not having figure it out, and got drunk enough that she was contemplating taking some random brunette home, but ended up calling Kelly instead because she couldn't figure out how the guy whose grandfather had given him his shave before he walked down the aisle, and the man who promised to cherish her forever, could turn around and father another child while the two of them were still married._

* * *

 

_**(The night, this emptiness, this hole that I'm inside)** _

_Quinn banged against the door, until it opened, thankful that, although she was drunk, it was the middle of the afternoon so she didn't have to worry about waking the neighbors._

_Kelly answered looking distinctly disgruntled, and oh so charmingly handsome._

_"Why, Kelly?" Quinn demanded._

_"You're going to have to be a bit more specific there, Lucy. Why what?"_

_"You're the father of Santana's baby?" Santana had never actually said the words, but after Quinn left there were two things that wouldn't leave her alone. 1) Santana had told her that Kelly had been cheating on her. 2) Santana had said she hadn't done all this alone, and that Kelly had been there for her. "How could you do that? Why would you do that?"_

_"Why, Quinn?" Kelly scratched at the stubble that was growing on his chin. "Why does anyone do anything in this world? You know what I used to think? I used to think that life was simple. Boy meets girl, boy marries girl. Boy and girl bring children into the world. Children watch mommy and daddy, and they grow up and learn, and someday become mommies and daddies themselves. You work hard: you have a nice lifestyle. You play by the rules: you get happiness. Simple. But that's not how life works is it? Sometimes no matter how hard you work, you just don't get to have that nice lifestyle. Sometimes a boy meets another boy, or the girl meets another girl. Or a boy falls in love with a girl who likes other girls._

_"I am an Ivy league educated, fine, upstanding, male, and according to every rule I've ever known, the world is supposed to be my oyster. I was halfway there, too. Met a great woman, had our nice house and two perfect children. But see this is where my version of that story hits a snag, you see, because that woman came with an attachment. Her name was Santana, and it turns out that it didn't matter how perfect I was, because in this story, guy who has everything doesn't get to have the girl._

_"Maybe it's fair, maybe shit just has to go around, and fine. Maybe I got too much of the good in life, and I was due for some of that shit. I can get that, but that's why you're here. You're here because maybe you deserve a bit of it, too. You want to know why? Maybe I did it because I'm narcissistic enough to want to see these great, fantastic genes coupled with Santana's good looks and fucking resilience. Maybe it's because I'm not giving enough to give her the one thing that she wants the most, so I settled on giving her the one thing that she wants the second best. Maybe because I'm practical enough to know that one day there was a very real possibility you and Santana would get together, and want a baby together, and I didn't want my children's sibling to have some unknown donor as its father. Or maybe, maybe I knew I was just a placeholder in your life, and was vindictive enough to know that when you found out that the biological father of Santana's child was your husband, you would be so devastated by the news that even though I didn't get to have you, I knew you'd never forgive her for the betrayal, and she wouldn't get to have you either!"_

_Kelly looked like he had unleased a weight from his shoulders._

_"So which is it?" she questioned._

_"You know me, Lucy. What do you think?"_

_Kelly was a fighter; she'd always known that. He was a nice guy, but he wouldn't let you run over him. Just because he was nice didn't mean that he didn't know how to fight. Kelly had seen her for weeks (months?), before he worked up the nerve to finally come talk to her. He slowly worked his way into her life. He'd played a long game, kept coming back despite the odds. He made sure that he befriended her best friend. He forgave her, twice. He waited until after Santana was out of the picture before he proposed._

_He was a lawyer; he wouldn't have gotten very far in his career if he didn't know how to strategize._

_"Honestly?" He waited. "I don't think even you know, Kelly. I think it might be a combination of all of those things, and you're scared because you don't know which one it is. You have every right to be mad, to be pissed. When we're consumed with love, though, we sometimes do things that even we don't know why we do them. I stand by what I said before, I think you're a good guy. I'll never stop thinking that about you, and I'll never regret that we got married, that we had Luke and Kyle. I don't regret it, and I don't regret us. I hope you don't either."_

_Kellen very stiffly shook his head. "I don't."_

* * *

 

_**(These tears, they tell their own story)** _

_By the time this was all said and done, Quinn was sure that with the frequently flier miles she was racking up with her Visa, she'd be able to fly to anywhere in the world that she wanted to, free, for the next 10 years._

_A month later, during Kelly's week to watch the kids, Quinn ended back on Santana's doorstep. This time better prepared than she had been before: she'd come with gifts. Food. When Santana was younger, she really, really liked those orange slices. She came bearing a gift of those and Breadstix, and by the look in her eyes when Quinn showed her the gift (I hate you for making me want this enough to talk to you), Quinn knew that it was worth the cost of having to pay to have the frozen Breadstix shipped overnight to her._

_Santana invited her inside the cabin, and Quinn sat down on Santana's couch, while Santana took the love seat across from her. "Santana, I know that you have your reasons for not wanting to talk to me right now, but please just let me say my peace. After I'm done, if you still feel the same way, I'll leave it, and I won't bother you again."_

_"That's such a load of shit," Santana snapped. "You're not going to leave it alone. You're going to go home, and you're going to think about it, and you're going to write me letters, or Skype me, or rent a blimp in the sky, until I cave, and that's not fair, Quinn Richardson, it's not!"_

_Santana started to sob. Quinn panicked. She started to get up, wanting to move closer to Santana, but she held a hand up. "No, don't." Santana wiped her tears away, only for them to be quickly replaced. "You're not fighting fair, and you know it! It isn't fair for you to be here right now because I'm pregnant, and I have all these feelings, like this." She gestured to her tears. "And I'm_ so _emotional. I'm crying right now, when I am actually so angry. I really just want to say I hate you for bringing me Breadstix because I've been craving them for months, and I really just want to eat them, and you won't give them to me until after you talk, and I don't want to hear you talk. And even if you were nice enough to give them to me without us talking, that would just make me like you even more than I already do, and it's not fair! I wish I didn't love you, Quinn. I wish I had never come to New York this summer, because if I didn't, I might not have ever realized how much I love you. Because I do, I do love you. And I don't know how that can possible be right, because if we get together, I'm hurting Kelly, and if we don't, I'm hurting me. And I don't want anyone to hurt, I just want some fucking Breadstix!"_

_"I promise, San, if you want me to leave after this, I will, and I won't try to contact you again."_

_"I know you Quinn, you hate to lose. You don't know how to walk away."_

_"I'm learning," Quinn said. "You knew me, Santana, but I am so far removed from that girl who had to be the best, who always had something to prove, that I don't even recognize myself. I've got nothing to prove to you! I came here to say this: I love you. I don't know if you and I are meant to be together forever, I don't know if you and I are ever meant to be together at all. I don't know what's going through your mind, or your heart, but I do know this: I love you. Right now, that's the only truth I know._

_"For the last couple of months I've been trying to sort all of this out because I've felt like I've loved you forever, but how could that be when I loved Puck, and I was in love with Kellen. That was real, and it was honest, and Kelly has never been a place holder for you. Never. So I've been trying to figure it out, and in the end I had to do some old fashioned book learning to find the answer."_

_Santana snorted, because of course Quinn did. "I had to look to your planets to help me." That, though, Santana wasn't expecting. Quinn had her attention. She wiped at her eyes._

_"The sun, or its mass, is the center of our universe, right?" Santana nodded. Quinn inwardly gave a sigh of relief because that at least meant that Santana was willing to listen. "It's the point where all things revolve. Well, to the moon, the Earth is kind of like its sun." Santana looked to correct her, but was cut off. "Just go with it, it's a metaphor._

_"The moon orbits the Earth, which means that it is in a constant state of continuously falling towards the earth, but because Earth is constantly in motion as well, it doesn't crash into it, it just exists in a state of continuous free-fall toward the object it's eternally fated to chase, but not catch. When I read that, everything just kind of clicked, you know? Santana, I realized that I will never fall in love with you because I'm in a constant state of falling in love with you. Do you see? When you hold me up, when you hold my hand, when you look at me, when you smile, when you claim me as yours, I fall more into your orbit. I fall, and I fall, and I fall, but I never land."_

_When their eyes met, they were revolving tiny orbs, moving around, over and through each other. "I don't ever want to land. I know I have the worst track record in the relationship department; I can't promise you forever. Even the universe promises to some day end, right?"_

_Santana nodded. "I can promise you, now, though. I can promise you today. I can hold your hand, and look you in the eye, and tell you that I love you, and that even if this crashes miserably, I will still fall in love with you, over and over. No matter what, we'll always be in each other's lives until fate separates us, because we are bonded to each other, in more ways than one. We've shared energies. We're apart of each other, even after we die."_

_More tears fell from Santana's eyes, but she didn't say anything else. When it got to the point that Quinn realized that she wasn't going to saying anything at all, she awkwardly got to her feet. She had done everything that she could do. "That's all I wanted to say."_

_She started to walk away. Santana let her almost reach the door before she stopped her. "Quinn?"_

_Quinn froze, hopeful, but not wanting to get her hopes up. "Ask me what you really came here to ask?"_

_Quinn turned, face wide open and every emotion she was feeling spread out easily over it for anyone to read. "Will you marry me?"_

_She was thrown off by the startled look on Santana's face, but damn if it wasn't the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. "Shit, Fabray," Santana gasped. "I thought you were just going to ask me out."_

_Relief rushed over Quinn, and finally, finally it felt like she could breathe again. "That, too. Santana, will you go out with me?"_

_Santana rolled her eyes. "Well, duh."_

_"You will?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"And will you marry me?"_

_"How about we just go on the date first?"_

_"Ok."_

* * *

 

**_(You told me not to cry when you were gone)_ **

Quinn startled awake when her plane touched down at LAX. Her window seat was pretty near the back of the plane, so she waited patiently until the plane was practically empty before she stood up and gathered her bags. As many times as she flew she could never really figure out why passengers hopped up as soon as the seat-belt sign had gone off, as if there was anywhere to go.

She smiled congenially at the flight attendants, ignoring the wink of the pilot as she walked out into the terminal. She had a several hours wait until her connecting flight, and she was mildly irritated that she had to spend it at LAX. Out of all of the airports that Quinn had traveled through, this one was one of her least favorites.

She loved DFW. Sometimes, when a layover was inevitable, she flew American Airlines, just so she knew her layover would be in Dallas. DFW was like its own mini world. All of the gates were seamlessly connected to each other, so even though it was nearly the same size as LAX, it seemed far bigger. You could literally walk a mile inside of the airport, and still not be in danger of leaving. There was no shortage of shops, places to eat, places to relax; it even had a gym.

Maybe she was flying the wrong airlines, but LAX wasn't like that at all. None of the gates connected to each other, it was disorganized, and there were only a few places to eat in each gate. The only thing that it had going for it, in her opinion, was that feeling that you might run into a celebrity at any time, though she never had.

Grumpily, she settled for an overpriced sandwich and a $12 mixed drink, and found a quiet corner to herself. She pulled out her laptop, and turned it on. Her background was a picture of her and Santana, invincible and laughing at the world. Quinn thought back to her brief stop at the cemetery, and felt a few errant tears fall. It was just enough to irritate the skin, not enough to be considered a flow; easy enough to wipe away with a napkin.

_You told me not to cry._

Quinn could feel travel fatigue settling and she still had at least nine hours to go before she would reach her final destination. And then there was the task at hand once she touched down. The packing up of a life, sifting through the things of importance, figuring out what should be shipped, what needed to be left behind.

Quinn absently played with the ring on her finger, before opening up a blank Word document. _Santana Lopez_ she typed, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. _I met Santana on the first day of cheer camp, the summer before our freshman year of high school._

Quinn was taken back to that summer, her first impressions of her, them becoming more co-conspirators than friends. It was pretty much hate at first sight, but Quinn was a good Fabray and she knew, you kept the ones you hated closely to your side. She never questioned why it was Brittany that Santana had developed the true friendship with, but she was always jealous that Brittany had been able to win the hard girl over much easily than she had ever been able to.

_I knew right then¸ that this girl was going to be my biggest challenge in life._

* * *

 

_**(But the feeling's overwhelming, it's much too strong)** _

_Dating a pregnant Santana was…interesting, to say the least. And by interesting, read pretty close to poking a fire breathing Hungarian Horntail, that would go from explosive to weeping in a matter of seconds. Santana had always been both hot and cold, prone to a temper, and prone to tears, and the pregnancy exacerbated it. They went on at least one date per day, while Quinn was in town, sometimes, two._

_Dating, they both quickly realized, was different than simply being friends with someone. There was actually things to learn about each other that they didn't know. She only got a brief glimpse into Santana's life during the two and a half, sometimes three months that Santana spent with them during the summer. There was a whole nine months' time frame that was missing. Multiply that by seven plus years, and that was a lot of learning each other._

_Quinn knew about the books, she didn't know about the TV program. Even though Quinn had her own group of women that she surrounded herself with outside of the Glee kids, she was surprised that Santana had a huge circle of friends in Hawaii, especially considering that Santana had never really made friends easily. At least not in high school. College had, apparently, changed that._

_The amount of stuff that they didn't know about each other was so daunting, but it wasn't enough for Quinn to want to call it quits. Santana was who she wanted, and she was willing to put in the work._

_She realized that she and Kellen had stopped talking; she wasn't even sure when. They had never really been the type to talk for hours, more like fall silent and be content in each other's company. She was comfortable in Santana's company, but because there was an ocean and a continent between them, silence was not something that they could be. She wondered when she stopped talking to Kellen, she wondered when that spark had faded, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed that it had at the time._

_"How's the picture?" Santana questioned, on one of their nightly Skype sessions._

_"It's perfect, Santana."_

_"Okay, can you see this?" She turned the iPad around so that Quinn could see the glider. "My rocket scientist friend, Sophia, bought this for me! So when I want to rock, I just fold this down, like this, and rock. And when I want to glide,"_

_She put the attachment back up, and showed the more gentle gliding motion._

_Santana suddenly squealed. "Two more months. Just two more months."_

_"And you'll call as soon as you go into labor?"_

_"Yes, babe. As soon as I have my first contraction. Lopez women have long labors so you'll have plenty of time."_

_"The shortest flight out takes 11 hours and 10 minutes. I was only in labor with Beth for 6 hours. I should come early. Maybe I should fly in on the 28_ _th_ _."_

" _That's a whole week before the baby's due!"_

_"Baby comes when the baby's ready, not when the doctor says its due."_

_Santana rolled her eyes. "If you didn't know better, you would think that this was your first pregnancy and not mine. Can't wait to see you."_

* * *

 

**_(Can I lay by your side)_ **

_The pink one-piece met her at the airport. "The name's Sharon," the woman greeted her._

_"Quinn."_

_"I know. We didn't get introduced at Santana's shower. Figure since I'm being your chauffeur and all, might as well know each other's name."_

_"You don't have to chauffeur me at all. I can catch a cab, or Uber."_

_She held up a hand. "Unclench, babe. I told Santana I'd take care of her girl, so that's what I'm gonna do."_

_Besides Santana, there were three other people at the house when Quinn got there. Hannah-Beth, who was apparently manning the kitchen, Sophia, who Quinn recognized as the black teddy and had been informed was the spark girl, and Yoli, who Quinn had never met. Santana herself was in bed, and Quinn didn't like the look of her._

_"Did you go into labor already?" Quinn questioned, anxiously._

_Santana shook her head. "Just a little sick, and I already went to the doctor's about it. He says its nothing to worry about. Hanna-Beth and Sophia are colleagues from the University. Yoli's the midwife."_

_"Mid-wife?" That Santana did not plan on having the baby at the hospital had not yet worked its way into any of the numerous conversations the two of them had had._

_"She's delivered hundreds of baby's Quinn."_

_"Thousands," Yoli corrected._

_"And if anything goes wrong, we'll go to the hospital."_

_"How far is it away from here?"_

_"Close enough, love."_

_Yoli sat something on the chair beneath the window. "I'll check in on you again tomorrow, Santana. Shouldn't be long now."_

_Quinn walked her to the door, and when she came back Santana waved her to the bed. "Have you been in bed all day?"_

_"On and off, but I'm going to go for a really long walk, soon. Right now, I just want to lay here, with you."_

_Quinn slid off of her shoes and joined Santana beneath the covers. Santana turned in to Quinn, resting her head against her chest. Quinn held her to her. She felt warm. "Promise you're not sick?"_

_"Promise," Santana murmured. She rested there for a few seconds, before she lifted her head. "I do have to have an uncomfortable conversation with you, though."_

_Quinn stiffened, adjusting so that they were looking at each other. "About what?"_

_"What if's."_

_Santana leaned over to remove a notebook from the drawer of her night stand. "What kind of what ifs?"_

_"The kind that you don't want to think about, but you have to anyway." She flipped a couple of pages. "My living will. If I die in labor, or from complications, etc. etc. Just so you know, my mom wants me to be buried in Columbus. We have a family plot. As for custody." Santana made sure that Quinn was looking at her. "Kelly will have full custody. We're not married, yet, we're not getting married before she's born, and Kelly having custody won't be challenged in court. He knows that my mom and dad want to be in her life, but I really want you two to be able to co-parent together, if something happens to me."_

_Santana was saying something without saying it in that statement. "San, we already have two children together; we know how to put things aside to parent."_

_"I just want to make sure that you can. If I can't be there to raise my daughter, I want to know that she is raised by two people who love her, and love each other."_

_"You have my promise that Kelly and I will be able to put whatever feelings we have for each other aside to parent our children."_

_"That's all that I'm asking," Santana said._

_"If-," Quinn swallowed, the words like bile in her throat. "What name did you want to name her?"_

_"Well. I thought that since Kellen named Luke, and I named Kyle, that you should get the chance to choose her name."_

_"Really?"_

_Santana gave a small smile. "I liked the name Beth. It was better than drizzle at least."_

_"Puck named her Beth, remember?"_

_"Oh, I forgot. I trust you."_

_Quinn had thought about it, but she didn't think that she'd have any say in the baby's name. "I know that you were thinking about naming her Diana, because of the moon, and your ties to the stars, but I was thinking about a different name. Luke's Luke for Lucy, and Kyle's Kyle for Kelly, so I was thinking, and you don't have to if you don't want to, but what about Selena? Your baby would still be the moon goddess, but it's kind of like naming her after you, too."_

_Santana worked the name over on her tongue. "I like it. Selena it is. Iris for the middle name. I know it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but she's my rainbow baby, and I want to acknowledge that."_

_"Okay," Quinn agreed._

_She wrote the name down in the notebook, then sat the book back on the nightstand. "Now that that's out of the way."_

_She lay back down, pulling Quinn with her. "We can get our snuggles on."_

_"We're just talking what-ifs, though, right?"_

_Santana nodded. "Of course. Still, it's always good to have everyone on the same page."_

* * *

 

_**(Next to You)** _

_Quinn startled awake, not realizing the cause, until she turned over to see Santana's face twisted in obvious pain. She kicked at the sheets, until her legs were free from them. "Santana?"_

_Santana's face was screwed up in pain. "Call Yoli, please. Her number's," she grunted, "Her number's already in your phone."_

_Quinn quickly scrambled from the bed, reaching for her cell phone, which was right where it was supposed to be on the nightstand. Remembering the three children she safely brought into the world, she fought for calm. "Um...Yoli, uh yes, it's Quinn. I think Santana's gone into labor."_

_Yoli gave her her reassurance that she would be there in 40 minutes or so. Quinn looked at Santana's pale face, the sweat trickling down her brow. "San, I think we should call an ambulance."_

_"Don't need one," Santana panted. "I'm having the baby here. Wake up Hannah-Beth, please," her voice was unnaturally calm._

_Quinn couldn't figure out why Hannah-Beth had taken up residence there, but the mid-wife was 40 minutes away. Quinn had to leave the room because she couldn't look at Santana and not do anything. She woke up Hannah-Beth, and went into the kitchen and set a pot to boil while her phone dialed to New York._

_"Hello?" Quinn frowned at the chirper voice of her ex-husband until she remembered the time difference. It was already morning in New York._

_"Santana went into labor." She wasn't able to match Santana's calm._

_"Something's off in your voice," Kelly noted. "Something wrong?"_

_"I-I don't know. Santana says that nothing's wrong, but she's…in pain. I've never been on the other side of this, you know?"_

_Kelly, too, was calm. "Well, I have. So, deep breaths. There's nothing you can do, and babies will come with or without help. They have been for millennia."_

But women have been dying from childbirth for that long, too _, Quinn thought, but didn't say._

_"I wish you were here," Quinn whispered._

_"I wish I was there, too. And I will be as soon as Luke's out of school for the year. Keep me in the loop, and remember, deep breaths, Quinn."_

_When Quinn went back into the room, Hannah-Beth was coaxing Santana to get out of the bed. So far all she had managed to do was sit up, and that looked like that that small task nearly killed her. 20 minutes later there was a knock on the door, but it was just one of Santana's friends. So was the next._

_20 minutes later, Santana had managed to find her feet, only to fall back to the bed after only the slightest pressure. She laughed. "Man, imagine having to deal with this belly all the time," she joked. "Quinn?"_

_"Right here, love. By your side. Not going anywhere."_

_She smiled, sinking against her. "Love you."_

_The next ring_ was _Yoli. There was absolutely no rush in her stride as she came down the walk, and into the house. She stood in front of Santana. "How do you feel?"_

_"Like something's inside of me, trying to claw its way out."_

_Quinn wished she wouldn't joke so much. But maybe Kellen was right. Maybe it just seemed worse because she was watching, and not going through it._

_That thought was immediately washed from her mind when Yoli insisted that Santana stand up. Everyone had eyes on Santana, and keeping her on her feet, so the blood was missed at first. But it was all over the bed, and down her night gown, and impossible to miss for more than a second._

_"San?"_

_Santana touched her backside. She brought her bloody hand up to her face. "I-I thought that was my water," she whispered._

_911 was called, but before the call was ended it was decided that it would be better if they drove to the hospital themselves since they'd have to wait for the ambulance to get there. They received a police escort halfway there, but still it was a 25-minute ride to the hospital. The whole time Santana didn't take her eyes off of Quinn as she grew paler. Quinn felt powerless, and couldn't do anything other than hold on to Santana's hand, and reassure her that she wasn't going anywhere._

_There was a gurney waiting for them as soon as they got to the hospital. Quinn was jostled aside as Santana was helped from the SUV, and wheeled inside. She doesn't remember being pushed into a seat in the waiting room, but she does remember Sophia handing her a folder containing Santana's healthcare information. She's not sure if she was the one to fill out the hospital forms or not._

_After that, it was a waiting game._

_It was the worst game Quinn had ever played._

* * *

 

_**(You)** _

Quinn got a rental at the airport, luckily getting to the gate right before they shut down for the night. She was there a day before she was expected, and if she couldn't get a car, her only other alternative was spending a small fortune on a taxi, or staying at a hotel nearby for the night. Quinn hummed to herself as she drove, a tune one that she often caught Santana humming: _Come Josephine in my flying machine, and it's up she goes, up she goes_. It was only just at that moment that Quinn wondered if Santana realized that the girl's name in the song was Josephine. Was that considered irony that she had dated a Josephine?

Keeping the car at the posted 35 m.p.h. for the 25-mile drive had Quinn wanting to pull her hair out. By this time she was exhausted; all she wanted was a bed. Hell, at this point she would settle for a soft place on the floor.

A lone light was all that was there to greet her, shining very little light on the house, and the ocean beyond, which looked intimidating and not so friendly now that the sun had gone down. She didn't care enough to pull her bag out of the car as she parked in the drive.

There were boxes on the porch, and when she let herself in, there were boxes stacked neatly on both sides of the door. Just about everything that had once made this place a home, had been packed up, or covered, ready to be moved away. Quinn wasn't expecting things to be this done.

She made her way through the rooms, noting with every echoing footstep that she was the only one in the house. She finished her tour in the back room. The bedroom was the only room in the entire house that was not completely packed. In the light of the moonlight, there was nothing but shadows.

* * *

 

_**(And make sure you're alright)** _

_The doctor was a young woman who, despite her full head of gray hair, didn't look like she was old enough to legally drink, much less be a doctor. She had a face that was impassive and gave off no impression. "Mrs. Richardson?"_

_"Yes, yes, t-that's me!"_

_She could feel the eyes of her party turning, listening in. She wished she had called Kellen, but at the same time she was glad that she didn't. Calling Kelly meant that something bad happened. Calling Kelly meant that he needed to be here, right now. And there was only one reason why he would need to be here right now._

_"You're-,"_

_"Dr. Lopez's sister in law." Dropping the Dr. was a calculated thing, so was the Mrs, and her relationship to Santana. Girlfriends didn't get to know news, only immediate family. "What's going on?"_

_"Santana experienced what we call a placental abruption. That's when the placenta detaches from the inner wall of the womb before delivery."_

_"S-so she wasn't in labor?"_

_"No. We performed an ultrasound, however, and found that the baby was in distress. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck; so we had to do an emergency C-section."_

_"The baby?"_

_"Your niece is fine. A nurse will take you back to see her, shortly-,"_

_It pained Quinn to have to ask. "And Santana?"_

_For three seconds, time stopped. "Santana lost a lot of blood which led to further complications." Quinn shook her head, as if to keep the doctor from saying anything that she didn't want to hear. "She's going to need to stay in the hospital for probably the next two weeks, and she'll be on bed rest for a while-,"_

_But Quinn didn't care. The weight that had been weighing on her heart for hours finally felt like it had been lifted. Santana was alive. "Can I see them?"_

_Selena was a bald headed, skinny, wrinkly little thing, with balled fists, eyes that refused to open, and a set of lungs that was unlike any of her children. She was unhappy, and she wanted everyone to know it. She was still being cleaned up, when Quinn first laid eyes on her, so she was there in all her naked, screaming glory. Quinn's fingers itched to hold her, to reassure her that she was not alone, that she was so very loved._

_She had to wait 20 minutes to get her wish, but then a freshly swaddled little female alien was placed into her arms. The wedding wasn't until this summer, and then there was the adoption paperwork, but when Quinn held her to her body, Quinn couldn't help but say, "Hello, Selena. I'm your other mommy."_

_Quinn was the first to hold her, but she didn't open her eyes until Santana held her. Almost as soon as she was in Santana's embrace, the lids rolled back showing off a pair of light brown eyes. "Well, hola y bienvenidos, little Lena. Glad to finally meet you. You're just like your mami, aren't you, mija? You just can't be rushed, can you?"_

_Two and a half months later, the day after Luke was finished with school, Kellen, Kyle, and Luke showed up at the house to spend the summer. They had Skyped and sent pictures back home, but this was their first time seeing the baby in person. She was a little fussy when Santana placed the baby in his arms, but didn't take long before she quieted down. Kelly just stared down, awestruck. Santana gave a tired smile at his reaction. "So, what do you think?"_

_"Gosh, she's beautiful," Kelly said in awe. It was so enduring Santana vowed to never make fun of him for saying 'Gosh'. "You're so perfect."_

_After Kelly's private moment, came the boys. Kelly sat down on the couch, Selena safely tucked against his body. "Be careful," Kelly said sternly, as Luke and Kyle jockeyed for the best position to see the baby. "You have to be very gentle and very careful, she's little."_

_Luke immediately settled down, and Kyle, matching the example of his older brother did, too. Selena's bassinet was pulled closer to the two boys. "Kyle, Luke, this is your baby sister, Selena. Selena, can you say hi to your big brothers?"_

_"Hi, baby Selena," Luke said. "You look like Kyle did when he was that little. I'll take care of you, too."_

_Quinn's eyes fell on Kyle, waiting. Kyle stared at the baby for three minutes straight before he finally declared, "Mama, my baby."_

_"Yes," Santana agreed. "That's your baby, Kyle."_

* * *

 

_**(I'll take care of you)** _

Quinn undressed, and slid into the bed, colliding with the body that she wasn't expecting to find beneath the covers.

"Mmm…," came a grunt, as Quinn's hands went around the body, eliminating any space between them. "You better be my wife, or I'm in trouble."

Quinn placed a kiss to the closest skin she could touch. "You don't sound very surprised."

Santana turned in her arms, and captured her lips. "Kellen told me you were coming," she explained, once they had pulled apart.

Quinn let out a noise of outrage. "I can't believe him."

"Babe, be glad he did. Sneaking in on someone who lives at least a mile from her next neighbor, not the best idea."

Quinn laughed. "Maybe," she agreed. But then she was taken away by the close proximity of Santana, who was wearing only a nightie. Her hands started to wander. "Babe," Santana encouraged.

Quinn shifted on to her back, and Santana moved on top of her, kissing her gently, taking her time. Their bodies had changed over the years. Skin that used to be tight and unyielding, was now malleable. Smiles had eked out permanent real estate on their faces, scars marred once perfect skin, bodies had changed, but still remained perfect to the ones who were exploring them. The first time they had made love once they acknowledged that that was what they were doing, that they were in love and staking their claim on each other, the two of them had gone so slowly it was almost glacial. Quinn swears it to be true, but she believed that Santana's taste, and touch, and feel had changed. That now that the word 'mine' lingered over them as they moved together, that it was a completely different feel. After all, a hotel has a completely different aurora than a home.

"I missed you," Quinn said, threading her fingers through deep black locks. Santana placed soft, barely there kisses, all along her collarbone. Quinn's fingers scratched lightly on the scalp before traveling down to the very tips, gently grabbing a fistful. Santana pulled back. "I love you," she returned.

She went back to what she was doing, placing little kisses. Whenever they reunited, Santana liked to take her time, and Quinn liked to allow her to. She instantly forgot how tired she was as Santana slowly worked her up.

When they had both come back to Earth, they lay beside each other, not able to look away. Santana was facing the window, so when the sun rose, it dawned over her face, and she blinked in the light, but kept her eyes open. They had yet to fall asleep.

"I visited Finn's grave."

It was a declaration that had come out of nowhere. "Yeah?"

"He's buried between a school teacher that died at 36 and this 90 year old man, and he was just 19. It's strange to think that some of us get 'forever' and some us get just a moment, isn't it? Who decides? Why? There was so much left for that teacher, and Finn, to do, you know? Hell, there might have still been something left for that 90 year old to do."

Santana nodded. "It doesn't make sense. Last week, one of the mothers in my pre-school community group laid to rest her six year old daughter. She was hit by a car and killed."

"Six?"

Santana nodded. Quinn shuddered. That was too close to Luke's age. "The only way I can make it make sense to me is to think, that if we do live in alternate realities, somewhere out there, that little girl is still alive, and somewhere Finn never died either. In a couple of those realities, Rachel got her happy ending with him, he grew up to be a better man that he was as a teenager, and Puck became the kind of guy that didn't run away."

Quinn had an errant thought. "So, if there is an alternate universe for every decision made, does that mean that there is a reality where Finn and I ended up together?"

Santana laughed. "Scary thought, huh?"

"And where I never gave up Beth."

"Where you never had Luke or Kyle."

"Or Selena."

Santana held her tightly. "See. There's no point in getting caught up in the decisions that you made, and the what-ifs, because then you wouldn't be living in the reality that you're currently living in. It's easy to find regret anywhere you look, but just because it didn't work out just the way you wanted it to, doesn't mean that it didn't work out exactly the way it was supposed to." Quinn gave a soft chuckle when Santana finished. "What's funny?"

"Adult you. I love her so much, you know?"

"Without sounding corny, I kind of love her, too. And I love you. You did a lot of growing yourself."

"I did. Everybody's so glad that you're finally coming home, home."

It had been harder than Santana had thought to break away from Hawaii. When she learned that she was pregnant, she meant to take the fellowship in New York, but then came the blow up with Quinn and Kelly. By the time she was back in Hawaii, it was too late to put her back on the roster at the University of Hawaii, Hilo. She ended up teaching basic physics at the Hawaii Community College for the fall semester, which gave her plenty of time to work on her books, but didn't pay nearly as well as working at the college.

Even with the end of Quinn and Kelly's marriage, she still could have taken the fellowship at Columbia, but she was worried that the stress of Quinn and Kelly's situation may have caused her to miscarry. After her first miscarriage, she didn't want to take any chances and, as she eventually explained to Quinn, the baby came first, even if it meant that she would never get to have Quinn.

Columbia was a two-year long fellowship, so the position wasn't available to her the following year, either. Santana taught a semester back at Hilo, and the latter half of the year was spent promoting her first book: _The Leaders of the Pack_. So far sales had been lukewarm, but her publishers had faith that eventually it would catch on, so even though she hadn't been offered an advance, she had a 3-book deal that the ink had just dried on.

With the promoting she had been gone Thursday through Monday, and made stop ins to her family on Tuesday and Wednesdays in New York when she had to, but all that was over now.

"I'm glad, too."

She would start teaching at Columbia (hopefully until she gained tenure) in the fall semester, and would promote _Bull Headed_ , that following summer. She would still have to travel, but not nearly as much as she had back when she was living in Hawaii.

"Are you going to miss this?"

If they were both quiet, they could hear the sound of the waves breaking against the sand. Santana lay back, listening. "Definitely. But I'd miss my family more. And we can always come back and live, once Selena's flown the coop."

"Yes, in only 15 and a ½ years! If our babies actually fly the coop."

"Luke's probably going to stick fairly close to home, but Kyle's too adventurous not to, and Selena's probably going to go where ever Kyle goes."

"I love that they're so close."

Santana smiled. "Me too, but it's a pain in the ass, too, sometimes, and you know it."

Quinn answered with her laugh. The fatigue settled in to her bones, and her eyes started to close. "Quinn?"

"Yes?"

" _Can I lay by your side_?" Her smile was lazy, and she didn't open her eyes. _"I'll take care of you_."

Quinn buried herself in her wife's embrace and fell asleep in the arms of her love.

* * *

 

_**(And I don't want to be here)** _

"Hey, look who I found wandering around the airport like a lost puppy!"

Luke was the first to look over, and the first to get up. "Auma!" he shouted, using the word he had settled on for Santana: 'Auma', Aunt Mama. He rushed into her arms, quickly followed by Kyle and Selena. "I told mommy to give you lots of kisses when your plane landed," Selena's voice rang out. "Did she?"

Santana looked up at Quinn, before winking at Selena. "Yes, mommy gave your mama lots and lots of kisses."

"Good, cause I missed you lots and lots!"

"Not more than I did!" Kyle asserted, anxious to make himself known. "I missed you the mostest of all, mama!"

"Did not, Kyle!"

"Did too, Sel!"

"All right enough you two!"

Selena stuck her tongue out at Kyle. Santana hugged the both of them harder. "I missed my babies."

"Who'd you miss more?" Kyle demanded.

"I missed you all the most." Santana gave them both kisses. As she stood up to full height, her eyes searched the room, landing on Kelly who was trying not to be too in the scene. "Ah, Kel, are you not getting any lovin'?" She hugged him, before planting a kiss on his cheek. "I missed you, too, Kelly."

Quinn took Santana's carry-on off her shoulder. "I'll take this upstairs?"

"How was your flight?"

Santana nodded. "Thanks, baby." She placed a quick kiss to Quinn's cheek before she answered Kelly. "It was good. Uneventful. How were our hellions?"

From the corner of her eye she saw Quinn disappear into the house. Kelly smiled his dad smile. The one that said that he was the happiest guy in the world. "Not too bad."

Luke's hand slipped into Santana. "Yeah, we're building a fort. Come see!"

Santana allowed herself to be pulled into the backyard.

The beginning of a fort had been erected. When finished it looked like it would be about four feet tall. Instead of a moat there was a wooden walk way, and a bridge to let down to allow kids to come in and out. "Whoa, this is really cool!"

"It was my design, Auma. And we're going to put in stairs over here, right daddy?" Kelly nodded. "And it's going to lead to a special platform just for me." He shrugged. "Well until Ky and Sel are a little bit bigger." He looked at Kellen. "Right?"

"Right."

"They kept you busy, hunh?"

Kelly nodded. "Always."

For the rest of the afternoon, all three of the kids competed to have as much of Santana's time as possible. Selena, especially, kept wanting to be held, and even when Santana sat her down, she stayed closed by, either as her shadow, or if Santana was sitting down, she would tuck herself into her side. Late in the afternoon guests started showing up. Mercedes and her family, Rachel, Jesse, Kurt and Blaine, Brittany and hers. At the sight of each of them, she was reminded of all the benefits living in New York had. She had made plenty of friends in Hawaii, but you couldn't replace this kind of history, and with enough space removed, she'd gotten to a place where she could appreciate it all. She didn't imagine that she and Rachel would ever be best friends, but they could at least do these kinds of things without animosity.

That word made her look for Kelly, who was talking with Quinn and some other girl that Santana didn't yet know. As amazing as it seemed, there didn't seem to be any animosity between them. It was seriously more than any sane person could ever hope for.

She must have caught his eye, because he said something to both Quinn and the unknown woman, before he trotted over to where Santana was sitting on the reclaimed driftwood picnic table, that they had found her last trip home. Luke had scratched his name into the table, and underneath it was a very shaky K-Y-L-E and a scribble she took to be Selena's name. She let her fingers sink into the groove.

"Why are you off here by yourself? It's your party!"

Santana smiled. "Just taking it all in."

Selena had finally disentangled herself from Santana's side to play with her 'cousins'. From what Santana had been able to see so far of her daughter, Selena was not going to be winning any popularity contests any time soon. She loved Kelly, Quinn, Santana, Kyle and Luke, and she tolerated Mercedes' daughter, Whitney, but that seemed to be the limits of her tolerance. Funnily enough, she didn't like Brittany's son at all, and Santana was not ashamed to admit (to herself) how happy it made her that she wouldn't let Rachel hold, not even when she was a baby. She screamed bloody murder every time she'd tried.

"Having doubts about moving?"

"Not a one," Santana answered. "Who wouldn't want to be a part of all of this?"

* * *

 

_**(If I can't be with you tonight)** _

Kelly bent down to pick up Luke, groaning with the effort, but managing not to jar him too much. Quinn picked Kyle up with less difficulty. Selena was a lighter sleeper than her brothers, and when Santana touched her she woke up. "Mama?

"Bed time my little moon goddess."

She simply nodded, put her head down on Santana's shoulder and fell back asleep. Santana smiled, holding her extra tightly as they carried the three of them into the house, securing them in their beds. Santana, Quinn, and Kelly each took their turns saying good-night, Santana taking a little extra time with each of them.

Kelly gave a yawn as Santana emerged from Selena and Kyle's bedroom, covering his mouth with his hand. "I should be getting to bed myself."

"It's late, Kelly. Why don't you spend the night?" Santana suggested.

He quickly shook his head. "I've got an early morning."

"You sure?" Quinn questioned.

"Yeah, at least have a night cap?"

Kelly shook his head. "No more of those for me. Not a part of my 'sober living' lifestyle." He gave her a wink. "Raincheck?"

Santana smiled. "You've got it."

Santana walked him to the door. "I'll come by after work tomorrow to help you get everything moved in."

Santana placed a hand on his cheek, before hugging him tightly. She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Kellen."

"Love you, too." He waved. "Good night, ladies."

"Night."

Santana felt arms wrap around her almost as soon as she closed the door. She felt a smile touching her lips. "Hey, baby."

"So now you're here."

"Now, I'm here," Santana repeated.

"Welcome home, love."

"I like the sound of that."

"Love?"

"No, home."

"I _love_ the sound of that."

When Quinn, too, had fallen asleep, Santana wandered around the house, taking it all in, letting it sink in that this was now home, home. This was their, her and Quinn's, home. They had narrowed the choices down while they were in different time zones, and Santana had flown in on a three day weekend so that they could lock it in. The house they settled on, a four bedroom craftsman, was smaller than the house that Quinn and Kelly had bought when they were married. It had the same number of bedrooms, but less than half the square footage, which meant fewer wide open spaces. It was fine for now, with the kids so little.

Once they got older, Santana was sure that they would all be on top of the other. At some point, it might become a bit too much, and they would either have to sacrifice Kelly's bedroom to the kids, or would have to move into a bigger house, but that was a bridge they'd have to cross once they got there.

Quinn and Kelly's divorce settlement had given them shared custody, with the agreement being that the kids would live one week at Kelly's, and the next week at Quinn's, and they would simply trade off holidays every year. That was the settlement, but it didn't really work really well for either of them because that meant that the other would be going a whole week without seeing the kids. So the compromise that they worked out was that Thursday nights were officially family nights and events couldn't be scheduled on those nights. Dinners were mostly shared, too. So far, a concentrated effort had been made for all parties to be present for at least four nights a week. In case it got late, and the other party didn't want to go home, there was a bedroom at Quinn and Santana's for Kelly, and a bedroom and Kelly's for Quinn and Santana, in case the other party didn't want to drive home at night. Selena hadn't been included in the divorce agreement, for obvious reasons, but Selena went where her brothers went, simple as that.

There was nothing conventional about this life that they had, and Santana was okay with that.

Quinn woke to find Santana gone, and after a little searching found her laying in the hammock that had been set up for her, staring up at what bit of the sky she could see through the branches of the trees in the backyard. It would take some time before she became used to the night sky of New York, after living on the island for so long. "Coming to bed?" Quinn questioned, lightly.

Santana turned so that she could see her wife. "Didn't mean to wake you. I'm still on Hawaii time, so I just came out here to do some thinking."

"Private thoughts?"

"Hippie thoughts," Santana joked. She held her arm out to let Quinn know she could join her. The hammock was big enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. "Just thinking about us, about Kelly, about the kids. I'm just amazed that this is my life." Santana set it waving slowly. If she concentrated, she could almost hear the ocean in the background. It didn't get as whisper quiet as it did on the beach, where the only thing she heard most nights was the wind and the waves. It didn't get as dark either. Santana used to be able to turn all of her lights off in her house, and suddenly be awash in darkness.

"It's much more than I ever expected."

"And everything that you deserve." Santana smiled softly. "That doesn't sound very hippy like.'

She laughed. "No? Well I've been thinking about all that, and I was trying to figure out what love must look like to the heavens."

"And what's your conclusion?"

"Like hope.

"There's this belief that life on earth is the direct result of a number of completely random instances and coincidence that happened at the exact right moment. The big bang created all of the energy the universe would ever need. From that energy the first atoms were formed. At some point the atoms began to collide with each other, and caused more atoms. From there stars exploded to form the heavier elements. With the passage of time, the explosion of stars, and gravity, the elements began to gather together to form new stars. Our star was formed, and with the left over material the planets were formed. The earth settled in just the proper distance from the sun, and a collision with another orbiting body created the moon and gave the earth it's unique tilt. The tilt allowed for seasons, seasons for the creation of water vapor, water vapor formed the first bacteria.

"Billions of years later, another orbiting body colliding with the planet killed off the dinosaurs, allowing for humans' ancestors to rise from the oceans, and then the growth of grass across the world eventually allowed for humans to begin to walk upright and later become the dominant species. If any one of those things had never happened, neither the current 7.5 billion humans currently alive, nor the estimated 108 billion people that have existed since the history of man, would have ever existed.

"We are born, forged from the same energy that existed at the dawn of time, and serve as a timeline for the entire history of the universe, an assortment of mixed up genes and happenstance. We're born, naked and crying, until we're placed into someone else's arms. As we grow we develop our own sense of self-being, our own reality. We're shaped by a series of completely random instances and coincidences, and the circumstances that happen to us, and the environments that we grow up in. We get hurt, we scar, we laugh, we cry, we live, and eventually we die. If we're one of the lucky ones, somewhere in the midst of all that chaos, in the midst of all the random energy slowly being drawn into and around each other to create the beginnings of things that even we can't imagine, we meet that one person that changes our entire outlook on life. It changes the world from a harsh, unforgiving landscape, to home.

"Sometimes you find them, sometimes they find you, and sometimes we simply crash into each other at the right moment in time."

Santana watched the heavens as she spoke. "I think to the heavens, love must look like an ever growing ball of light that grows against the emptiness of space, and absolutely refuses to die."

 


End file.
